Not So Far
by Sila Ninque
Summary: [NOW COMPLETE] Charlie is used to being needed on cases, but what will happen when he's the ONLY one that can solve this missing person's case? DT, CA
1. Only One

Okay, this is my personal confession and disclaimer. I don't own NUMB3RS, first of all, I just play with the characters and make them do the things I want in my own crazy world. Secondly, this is the first piece of fanfiction I have ever attempted, and I know there are a million and a half mistakes. I'll do my best to make it something enjoyable to read, but I make no guarantees. Enjoy anyway!

Chapter 1: Only One

The heat in the small office was oppressive, and the suffocating silence made it even worse. The only sounds in the tiny room were the squeaking of Charlie's marker and the occasional "Yes, sir" and "I see" from Don, who was on the phone. Finally, he hung up the phone and sighed, leaning back in his chair and pressing a hand over his eyes.

"Something going on?" Charlie asked without turning around. His marker screeched loudly on the glass, and Terry jumped. "Sorry." Charlie apologized sheepishly.

"New case." Don answered shortly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Missing person's. Seventeen year old female, college sophomore of Duquesne University. About five feet, five inches, hundred twenty-five pounds, red-brown hair, grey eyes. They're faxing a photo." He took a deep breath, as though mentally preparing himself for something.

"All of us?" Terry wanted to know, studying her colleague with concern.

"You, me, David, and Charlie." He shrugged, scanning her over the tops of his fingers, which were still clamped firmly over the bridge of his nose.

Charlie looked up from his equation, meeting his brother's gaze, which had just switched from Terry to him. "Me?" He repeated, apparently shocked.

"Yes, you. I. . . I need to talk to you, actually. Out in the hall, please. . .No, no, Charlie. Put the marker _down_ and come talk to me." Don gently pulled the marker from his brother's grasp and laid it on the window's ledge.

Charlie followed his older brother out, gazing longingly over his shoulder at the window where his equation was scribbled.

"Charlie," Don began tensely, "this case is. . .special. I need your approval before I go on with it."

"Special?" Charlie's dark eyes widened considerably. "Special how?"

Don flipped open the little black-covered notebook he'd taken notes in. "Christine Jane Baxter. Began doing complicated mathematical equations at the age of five. Required special teachers by age six. Graduated high school at age fifteen. Etcetera, etcetera. There are other factors too. They think that her abduction is related somehow to her genius level." He glanced up from the page to study his younger brother. Charlie seemed distant. He took in the pattern of the tiled floor, seemingly lost in his thoughts. "The school is located near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania." Don tried again, "They called us because they think _you_ can help.The one they really want on this case is _you._We're really going to need you to pull through on this one. You can do that, right?"

Charlie gave his brother a Look, snapping out of his reverie. "Of course I can."

Don smiled, "We've got a flight at six, then."

Charlie nodded, then followed his brother back into the office. "Okay, people." Don began, clapping his hands for attention, even though David and Terry were already gazing at him with rapt attention. "Her name is Chrissie Baxter, and she lives in a small apartment on the other side of the city from the campus in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Our flight leaves at six, so be ready at the airport around four."

They nodded, and the room became a blur of activity ("Anyone seen my purse?" "Where's my car keys?") before clearing. Don, the last to leave, flipped the light switch to the "off" position and pulled the door shut.

On the plate glass window, forgotten by all, laid Charlie's work.

The plane touched down at Pittsburgh International Airport, waking Don up from his four-hour nap. In the seat next to him, Charlie had his earphones pressed over his ears and was finishing his Minesweeper game. As Don watched, his brother rapidly cleared the last few squares and the familiar "Best Time" box popped up, revealing that Charlie has beaten the expert level, again, in 38 seconds. Don shook his head, the plane taxied into the gate, Charlie and Terry packed up their computers, and they were free. Don stood and stretched, feeling his cramped muscles protest his movements. "You guys hungry?" He asked his team.

Charlie nodded. David and Terry exchanged grins. "Definitely." David replied, speaking for both of them. Don led his small crew through the maze of crazed travelers and down to the lower level of the food court.

When they were all seated with their choice of cuisine, Don pulled out his notebook. "Okay, Chrissie lives on Lady Delview Lane, and that's on the other side of the city. Let's go interview her housemate first."

"We got cars?" David asked, attempting to pick up his overloaded cheeseburger.

"Yeah, down the street here a few blocks is a car rental place. Bureau's already rented a couple."

An hour and a half later, Don's team hung back as he rang the doorbell. The door opened a crack, and half a face peered around the door. "Can I help you?" The voice that accompanied the face was dry and reedy, results of not enough sleep and too much stress, Don was certain.

"I'm Special Agent Don Eppes with the FBI. This is Special Agent Terry Lake, Special Agent David Sinclair, and. . . this is my brother, Charlie. We're here about your roommate, Chrissie Baxter. What's your name?"

"Alexei Trent." She said, scanning them carefully, no sign of shyness evident in her visible blue eye.

"May we come in, Miss Trent?"

"Could I see your ID?" She asked brazenly. "Just to be sure."

Don patted his pockets, looking for his wallet, found it, and flipped it open. The star badge and the clear plastic covering on his ID window shone in the late afternoon sun. Finally, the door opened and she stepped back, allowing the four access and their first view of Chrissie Baxter's roommate. Alexei was tall and golden, with a short, no-nonsense haircut framing a not-quite-beautiful face that was peppered generously with freckles.

The living room in which they stood was sparsely furnished. A television blared mindlessly from the floor. A couch, two chairs, and a coffee table were the only pieces of furniture in the room. Through a large archway, they could see what served as the girls' dining room, in which sat a clapboard table and two straight-backed chairs. All in all, the house was very bare, from what they could see. No posters or pictures lined the walls, no photographs sat on any surface, creating an air of an unlived-in apartment.

"Can I get you anything?" Alexei asked, closing and locking the door behind them. "Coffee, hot tea, pop?"

Terry and Don exchanged a small smile at the "Pennsylvanian" word. "Pop" was a commonly-used Western Pennsylvania word for soda.

"Tea would be wonderful." Terry confessed after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

When they were all settled around the room with their respective refreshments (David in one chair, Don, Terry, and Charlie on the couch, and Alexei across from David), Don opened his notebook again. "Okay, Alexei, I need you to begin at the beginning. Start with Friday morning and work down to the last time you saw her."

Alexei sniffed, trying to control her emotions. She twisted the Coke bottle in her hands thoughtfully. "Chrissie has an eight o'clock class on Friday. It's. . . Calculus III, I think. She gets up at six, showers, then leaves to meet her math club friends for breakfast." She took a long sip of the Coke.

"Do you know who's in this club or where they went?"

"There's a cute boy in it…Justin Johnson. Chrissie, of course. Lexie Turner, she's a senior. She started the club. Donnie Moore, he's a freshman this year. Sexy blue eyes. Those are all I know, but I'm sure there are more. I think they went to the Pancake house that morning." She seemed uncertain of her answer and looked to Don, as though for reassurance that her answers were correct.

"That's good." Don assured her. "Go on."

She closed her eyes as if remembering. "I don't have any Friday classes. So after her eight o'clock, Chrissie came home and we did a little cleaning. Then we went to McDonald's for lunch. . . Chrissie loves their fries. When we got home, about 1:30, I think, he gathered up her dance stuff and went to the rec center. Then she had her 7 o'clock World History class with Professor Dahlin."

"And she never came home after that?" Terry prodded gently.

Alexei shook her head, "Nope, she never came home." She seemed to be focused on a point above Charlie's head, her jaw firmly set to keep her emotions at bay.

"Tell me a little more about her. Where does she hang out? Who are her friends, what does she-"

The irritating ring of the telephone interrupted. Alexei sighed and rose. "I'm sorry; it might be Chrissie's parents. I have to answer."

"Take your time." Don nodded at her. She moved into the kitchen and a moment later, they heard her answer the phone.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, Don looked at Terry, David, and Charlie. "What do you think?"

"I have no idea." David said honestly. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, we have some names of some of her friends. We'll interview them next." Don offered. "Then we'll move on to the administration of the school, I suppose. Probably the-"

"Excuse me." Alexei stepped into the room, the phone in her right hand. "Um, Charlie? The phone—it's for you."

"Okay. . ." Charlie rose, nervous, and took the phone from her. "Hello?" If the last time everyone had been attempting not to listen, this time, they all were. "Who is this?" He asked angrily a moment later. His eyes widened considerably and he looked at Don. "_It's him_." He mouthed.

Don looked confused, and Charlie gave him an exasperated look and gestured to the notebook in his brother's hands. Don handed it to him and Charlie began writing furiously. "I've got to what?" He asked a second later. "And you'll give her back? She's going to be okay? Where is she? Is she hurt? What did you-"

Charlie was interrupted by an angry explosion and a click from the other side of the phone. He stared at the dead phone in his hands.

"Charlie? Who was it?" Don asked, though he had a sickening suspicion that he already knew.

"That was Chrissie's kidnapper. I've got three days to figure out this equation and follow it to the next location. He will call us from there." Charlie said, obviously shaken.

"You can do that." Don assured him. Charlie leaned against the wall, seemingly drained.

"If I don't, he's going to kill her." He said, avoiding his brother's eyes.

I'm terribly sorry that this is so short and such a terrible place to end, but it's late and I'm already late for cheerleading . . .I'm out. This is dedicated to my crazy but wonderful co-conspirators at uncalculatedNUMB3RS, which is the coolest, most insane yahoo group out there. Thanks for your not-so-subtle hints and pushing. Love you all!

Review and tell me what you think. If I've made any terrible mistakes, I'm sorry. Feel free to correct me. . . NICELY! Flames will be fed to my evil bird in an attempt to combust him.


	2. Gone

First off, let me say thank you to everyone who read and didn't review (I'm not being sarcastic. Lord knows I do it often enough, and you reading at all is fantastic) and an extra-special thank you to everyone who did. You're all wonderful. I never expected this story to get that kind of response. BlushesYou made my week. Anyway, enough with my gushing. Here's chapter 2.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, no characters, no places. . .heck, I don't even _know_ anything.

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my foster sister for her birthday…maybe another year will pound the obvious Don and Terry chemistry into her head. I love ya, Katie!

* * *

Chapter 2: A Strange Twist

**DAY 1: 42.5 hours left**

**10:30 p.m.**

Don set the steaming Styrofoam cup down in front of his brother. "How's the problem coming?" He asked, glancing over Charlie's shoulder at the complex and alien strings of numbers.

"Okay." Charlie sighed, studying the papers as well. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Any time." Don replied, gripping his brother's shoulder gently. "I'm going to go down to the lobby, push some paper. Are you going to be okay up here alone?"

"David's here." Charlie pointed out, gesturing to the form on the couch. The remote was still clutched in the agent's hand and the television still blared from its stand, but David was fast asleep.

"True." Don replied with a nod. He smiled at him before making his way down to the darkened lobby, lit by only a couple of low-light lamps placed strategically around the room. When he stepped off the elevator, however, he was surprised to discover that he wasn't alone.

"Terry? What are you doing down here?" He asked, recognizing her silhouette immediately, framed against the city glare from the window.

"I'm just . . .relaxing. Enjoying the view." She turned to him, smiling the bright, wide smile that made his stomach jump nervously every time. "It's beautiful."

"Yes, it is." He agreed, managing to keep his tone professional. He moved to stand next to her, watching the bustling street below. He noticed the cup in her hand and the sweet-cream scent flowing from it. "What are you drinking?" He asked, eyeing the cup with some suspicion.

"Just coffee. You want a sip?" She held the cup out to him, filled with the hot creamed-and-sugared drink.

He took a mouthful and made a face. "Girly coffee." He commented, handing the cup back to her.

"Not true. David likes cream and sugar in his coffee too." She laughed.

He felt a pang of jealousy…how did David know what coffee Terry drank and he didn't? He pushed the thought aside as he heard himself answer, "David? That surprises me, for some reason." He turned toward her, leaning against the window.

She smiled at him. "I suppose _you_ like it as black and strong as you can get it."

He shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much. Charlie and my father like it that way, too. Guess it runs in the family."

Her smile faded. "How is Charlie?"

"He's plugging away." Don turned his head to study the glowing windows of an office building across the street. Miniscule people went about their work in the lit windows. "He hasn't slept or eaten since that phone call, and that was . . .what, almost thirty hours ago?"

"Are you worried he'll mess the equation up?" Terry asked softly, following his gaze out the window.

"No, I'm afraid he'll make himself sick." Don replied, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't worry. He'll be fine." Hesitantly, she laid a hand on his arm. "You know how he is. He'll work ceaselessly until he finishes it, then he'll crash."

"I know." Don managed to reply coherently. He glanced down at her hand, resting innocently across the black cotton of his jacketed arm. "Thanks, Terry." He said, reaching across his body to awkwardly lay a hand over hers. He was shocked at how cold her skin was. "You're freezing!" He exclaimed unnecessarily.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "It's a little colder here than in LA." She pointed out, as if this should be obvious.

Without answering, Don pulled off his blazer and draped it around her shoulders. Her eyes widened and she yelped a protest, trying to force it back into his hands. He countered her objections with, "Do you think there's a Chinese place open?"

"Chinese food?" She stopped trying to hand his jacket back and gazed at him in disbelief. "At ten-thirty at night!"

"What can I say? It sounds good." He chuckled. "Want anything?"

"No thanks." She crossed her arms across her stomach, pinning the recently-replaced coat closed. "But, if you'd like some company. . . I'd be glad to ride along." She offered.

"That would be great. But . . .um, you have my keys in my jacket pocket."

* * *

**41 hours, 15 minutes left**

**11:15 p.m.**

The phone rang shrilly, and Charlie dived for it before the sound could wake David. "Hello?" He called softly into the receiver.

"Call for Mr. Eppes on 312." The hotel receptionist replied in a bored, nasal tone.

"Okay, thank you." Charlie hung up the phone and dialed in to accept the call. "What?" He whispered, assuming it to be his brother.

Instead, a small, scared voice, broken by the static of a cell phone with poor reception, crackled over the line. "Charlie?"

"Yes. Who—Terry? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. Charlie, Don hasn't called you or come back yet, has he?"

"No. . ." An iron clamp of fear closed around his stomach. "Why?" He asked, detesting the shaking of his own voice.

"I can't find him _anywhere._" Terry, normally calm and virtually unshakable, sounded on the verge of tears. "He's _gone!_"

"Terry, calm down. We're coming." He promised. Despite the calmness in his voice, Charlie's hands were shaking already. He had a bad feeling about this.

"Hang on, Terry. I'll get David." He turned from the wall and called across the small room, "David. David! DAVID!"

The agent merely grunted in his sleep and rolled over. Knowing the phone cord was too short to stretch to the couch where David slept, Charlie threw the nearest thing—a pad of hotel stationary—gently at the man, effectively waking him up. "We've got a problem." He said as calmly as he could.

David was on his feet instantly. "Where are we going?" He wanted to know, pulling off his torn tee shirt and rifling through his suitcase for a button-down.

"Where are you, Terry?" Charlie asked, juggling the phone and the buttons on his own freshly-pulled-on shirt.

"At the China Wok on East Avenue." She replied, and he knew that her calm, professional manner was returning.

"We'll be there soon." He promised, hanging up the phone with a shaking hand.

"Let's go. You can fill me in in the car." David said, grabbing his keys from the bedside table.

By the time they arrived at China Wok, the police had already arrived, their whirling red and blue lights painting the night an eerie purple. Charlie and David hurried up to their pacing colleague, "Terry!"

She spun, then hurried over to them. She was visibly shaken, but she sounded completely rational, as though she were worried crazy but thinking straight. "I'm glad you're here." She said softly, twisting her hands in front of her. "I don't know what to do."

"Relax, first of all. Then tell us what happened." David replied, catching her hands to stop their frantic twisting. He watched her with brotherly concern as she studied the ground, collecting her thoughts.

"He had a crazy craving for Chinese food. So…while we were driving, he phoned in his order. We were just going to pick it up. When we got here, he said to wait in the car while he ran in. We parked just around the corner. He never came back." Tears shone in her eyes, but she lifted her chin, refusing to let them fall.

"Don has his gun. Wherever he is, I'm sure he's fine." Charlie sounded as though he were trying to convince himself as much as her.

"No, he doesn't." Terry pulled her hands free of David's and dug around the inside pocket of the jacket she still wore, producing the gun. "He always takes it off when he drives. . . says it digs into his side. He asked me to hold onto it."

Just as David opened his mouth to speak, a cell phone rang. Simultaneously, they pulled the phones from their pockets, and Charlie let out a yelp. "It's Don!" He exclaimed, pushing the 'receive call' button. "Don? Where are you! We've been worried sick!"

"As well you should be." A voice that wasn't Don's drawled coldly over the line. "I see your equation has been coming along well. I think it's time we. . . raised the stakes a little, don't you?"

"I knew it." A coldness like neither agent had ever heard before crept into Charlie's voice. "You sadistic, twisted-"

"Now, now, Charles. It's all a game, remember? It's all in fun." These words were punctuated by a hard, dry laugh. "You take away what is important to me, I take away what is important to you. Fair is fair and foul is foul."

"Actually, I _believe _the quote was, 'fair is foul and foul is-"

The caller interrupted again. "Don't be clever, Charles. I suggest you go home and work on that equation. You've got forty-one hours left. Good luck." The line clicked, then died.

* * *

Ah, yes. It is _so_ much more fun to be on this side of the cliffhangers. :D Innocent whistling Oh, the drama. Now for personal thanks:

Midnight Dove: Neat name, by the way. Hee, the "put _down_ the marker" was my favorite line from that whole chapter. You can just see poor Don trying to get his brother's attention, can't you? Blushes I'm glad you like it. Thanks!

LeoDiabla: Thank you for your wonderful review, Dylan. I hope this chapter isn't _too_ terribly out of character…I know I'm not very good at romantic scenes, but I wanted to dabble. I know, the marker thing…it's like nails on a chalkboard. And more than a smile, this time…just for you. ;) I thought of you the whole time I was writing that lobby scene. And I have a confession to make: Chrissie is pretty much just me. It was much easier to take myself and throw that into the story than to create a whole other character from scratch, and since I wanted to get the idea down on paper before it flew away…that's what became of it. . I'm so lazy. So McDonald's fries...they're my absolute favorite food in the whole world, therefore, they're Chrissie's. Grab some salt and dig in, girl!

Thanks for pointing out about Charlie's introduction. I had NO idea what to call him (obviously :D). I'll fix that. I'm really touched that you looked so hard just to read my work. I hope this chapter's worth it.

strangexbutxtrue: Thank you. I'm so glad you liked it. I'm also really thrilled that you think my characters aren't too terribly OOC. I hope I didn't ruin that this chapter. It was much harder to write than the last one.

SamuriKnight: I'm glad you like it. Here's some more for you…hope you like it as well as the last one. Thanks for your nice review!

leev: Thank you. I thought the start was fun to write, but this chapter…whew. Calculating all those timings and the countdown clock is about the extent of _my_ mathematics skills. Glad you like the characterizations…they're killers. Really. I hope the fanfiction rises like crazy too. I love to read it as much as I love to write it.

ShadowGraffiti: Thanks so much for your review! I'm glad you're interested. Actually, I almost DIED when I saw your name in the review list. Crimson Failure is one of my very favorite on-going NUMB3RS fics right now. . . I'd love to see some more….hint,hint

I'm hoping that this twist (which came to me at 2:30 this morning. . . . > ) will break the ties of similarity. Your fic is so unique; I never would have thought that mine might run parallel. EEK…sorry about that. My subconscious continues to run my thoughts. And look, I've posted!

wandering ghost: It lives again! I'm so glad you like it! Thank you for your nice words. I am a firm believer that mornings should not exist before 10 a.m. Nods virtuously Too bad most of my decent writing comes at about 3:30 in the morning. .

SharpShooter626: Thank you! Here's some more for you! I kind of aimed for the dramatic aspect, so I'm glad you liked it. I was afraid that it might be a bit _too_ dramatic, and I hope this chapter doesn't fall under that category. Gulps

Teyla Sheppard: I'm glad you stopped in just to review! Thank you! It makes me feel great. Here's some more for you to read. ;)

spittingames: Thank you! I'm glad you liked the first chapter. Hope the second one is good, too.

sammac: Yours was another name on the reviewer list that almost gave me a heart attack. I love "Skewed". So dramatic and awesome…sigh

I'm so glad you like this. And I'm glad you seem to notice my plot . . . especially since it changes all the stinkin' time! (eg, my 3:30 in the morning "raise the stakes" revelation sweatdrop) I need to hire a new muse. Glad the characterizations were noteworthy. As a fellow writer, I'm sure you can more than understand the frustrations that causes sometimes. The whole hallway scene was one of my favorite scenes in the chapter and by far my favorite to write. It was fun. You really think the end was a high point? I'm so glad! I thought it sounded awfully forced and rushed. Good to have someone else's opinion. THANK YOU for your review…it made my morning to wake up today and see it.

THANK YOU, EVERYBODY!


	3. The Hardest Thing

The beginning half of this chapter took me (no kidding here, folks) _five_ tries to get it to a point where I could stand it. I still don't like it that well, but it should clear up a few questions left over from chapter 2. . . I hope, anyway. The beginning of the chapter is Terry's POV, in case I didn't make it clear enough in the writing.

**Disclaimer**:Checks: Nope, still don't own the show or the characters. Darn it.

**Dedication:** Hmm. . .I'm dedicating this chapter to all my reviewers. . . because you're all wonderful and I love you all!

Chapter 3:

The Hardest Thing

"_Last chance." Don warned, digging through the pocket on his shirt for his cell phone. "I'm ordering. Are you sure you don't want anything?" _

_I laughed, "I'm sure." _

"_Okay. . ." He replied in a teasing 'you'll-regret-it' tone. He dialed, placed his order, and flipped the phone closed, sliding it back into his pocket. _

_We drove in silence while I cast my mind around for something to say. Finally, it settled on, "Are you worried about this case?"_

_He was so quiet that for a moment, I was afraid I had pried where I didn't belong. I was just opening my mouth to apologize when he answered, "Yes. It's always harder when the vic's just a kid, you know?" He was driving with one hand, eyes fixed on the road ahead. His other hand was fussing with the strap on his holster. I watched him closely for a moment before realizing that he was trying to get the gun out._

"_Would you let me help you with that before you get us both killed?" I offered quietly._

_Reluctantly, he removed his hand, and I leaned across the center console to unhook the strap at the butt of his gun. I eased the firearm from its case and laid it across my lap, turning my head to gaze out the window as I attempted to control my nervous breathing. I hadn't been that close to Don in. . . well, too long. I'd forgotten how good it felt._

_Don cleared his throat, easing the nervous tension somewhat. "Thanks, that was really killing me."_

_For an instant, I thought he was thanking me for moving out of his personal space, but I realized quickly that he was talking about the gun, which had apparently been causing him an awful lot of discomfort. I offered him the closest thing I could get to a normal smile, "No problem."_

_He pulled to a stop at a red light and turned to face me. "Terry, can I ask you something?"_

_I turned too, meeting his intense gaze and feeling myself drowning in those impossibly dark eyes again. **Get a hold of yourself, Lake**. I commanded, then replied, "Sure."_

_He searched his mind for the right words, "Before, when we were still dating, you said that-"_

_He was interrupted by the blare of the horn of an irate Chevy van behind them. The light had changed, and the driver had grown impatient. _

_Don turned onto East Avenue, and I waited patiently for him to finish his question. However, he seemed lost in thought and disinclined to continue the conversation we'd been holding. Timidly, I prodded him. "Don?"_

"_There it is." He announced, pointing across me to where a gaudy neon sign split the darkness, claiming loudly to have "The best China in town!"_

"_Yes, there it is. Now what were you saying?" I attempted to force him back to the conversation at hand. _

_He eased into a parking space and turned off the car. "I'll. . . I'll tell you when I get back. I promise." _

"_Okay." I leaned back in the seat and crossed my arms over my chest. "You'd better."_

"_I will." He opened the door and jogged off, disappearing around the corner of the building._

_After five minutes or so, I began to get a little irritated. **What is taking him so long?** I wondered, clearing a small circle in the fog on the inside of my window. **Maybe they're not finished with his food yet**. _

_However, when nearly ten minutes had passed and he still hadn't returned, I decided that it was time to find out what was going on. I unhooked my seatbelt, opened the door, and strode (much more confidently than I felt) around to the front of the building. _

_There was no sign of my friend. A small brown paper bag lay on the ground, leaking a bright orange sweet-and-sour sauce onto the concrete. A can of Coke (my favorite) lay exploded next to it, still fizzing._

_And I knew._

"_Don! Don Eppes!" I called, hurrying into the restaurant. _

_I raced to the young Chinese boy behind the counter. "Excuse me." I panted, waving to draw his attention to me. "Where did the man that was just in here go?"_

_The boy shrugged, apparently unfazed by my growing panic. "I was reading. I saw nothing, I hear nothing, I know nothing." He said impudently. _

"_Well, what happened? Where did he go? When did he leave?"_

_He ignored me for a moment, then turned to me. "I know nothing. I said."_

"_If you're lying to me, if you're hiding anything, I will find out, and you'll be charged as an accessory in the kidnapping of a federal officer. I don't think you want that. If you saw anything, you'd better tell me!"_

_Now, I noted with some satisfaction, there was worry in his eyes. "I really didn't see. He came in, got his food, left. I went to back, read news. You came in. That's all." _

_I groaned, frustrated. I spun on my heel and hurried back out the door to the parking lot. "DON!" I called on the top of my voice._

_Not even a cricket answered me. Fighting back the growing panic and the tears, I hurried across the pavement to the car. I had some calls to make._

* * *

**37 hours, 5 minutes left**

**3:25 a.m.**

David watched with concern as Charlie hung up the phone. Charlie was shaking furiously again, and nausea lurched in his stomach at the memory of his father's broken, frantic voice. He crossed his arms as if to shield himself from the onslaught of memory. "What did your father say?" David asked.

"He's on the next plane out." Charlie replied shortly, dully, sitting down at the table and pulling the papers toward himself. He patted his pockets, then raked his fingers through his hair, then rustled through his papers.

Terry pulled a pen from her coat pocket and laid it on the table in front of him. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He said absent-mindedly. "None of you happen to have a wall map of Pittsburgh, do you?" He asked, already hard at work. He raked his hands through his hair aggressively. It was obvious that he was overly frustrated, and the fact that Don was the only one that could calm him in this state made his absence more conspicuous.

"Yeah, right here in my pocket." David teased him gently.

Charlie rewarded him with a small, forced smile and pushed to his feet. "Okay, I'll go get one."

"No, I'll go. I could use the walk." Terry volunteered, standing up from the armchair she'd been curled into. "You work."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" David asked, concerned.

"I'll be fine. I'm just going to walk to the CVS next door. I'll even take my gun, and you can watch me from the window if you'd like." She promised.

David chuckled, a sound without much humor, and nodded. "Okay. I'll be watching."

She flew out the door, glad to be free of the oppressing silence and the suffocating heat of the small hotel room. When the elevator doors dinged open, she hurried into the deserted lobby, adverting her gaze from the window she and Don had stood before only hours ago, and out into the street. She strode confidently through the night to the drugstore, where a bored-looking teenage boy sat behind the counter, scouring the contents of a car magazine.

"Excuse me." She called, catching his attention. He glanced up, and a hormonal smile curved his lips at the sight of her. She dropped her gaze in a very un-Terry-like manner, avoiding his eyes. She just didn't feel like dealing with it right now.

"Hey. How can I help you?" He asked.

"I need the largest map of Pittsburgh you have, please." She told the floor.

"That would be this one." He pulled a cardboard tube, about four feet long, from under the counter. "7 feet long, 4 feet wide. 29.99."

"I'll take it." She was replying even as he finished. "Hold it for me for a minute."

She hurried through the store, dropping pens, tape to hang the map, highlighters, and, as an afterthought, a bright blue scratch-free window paint pen into her basket. She rang up her purchases, nodded at the boy's too-sweet "Goodnight!", and made her way quickly back to the hotel room. She knocked on the door and David opened it immediately.

"Thanks, David. Hey, I brought you something." She directed at Charlie. She dug through her bag and tossed the chalk down on the table in front of him.

He pounced on it with the closest thing to excitement they'd seen from him in days, and the most emotion they'd seen in hours. "Thanks!"

He quickly set up station at one of the huge floor-to ceiling plate glass windows and began scrawling. Outwardly, he appeared to be calm, focused. Inside, however, a storm of doubt, fear, and rage tore his spirit apart. Never before had he ever had to do something like this. Never had the stakes been this high. Never had he been the one to make the decisions, to save the lives. He had to be right. He had to. The result of any wrong answer, of the alternative, was something he couldn't bear to think about. He could face life without his mother, who had been the center of his world, with his brother at his side. Without Don, he knew he could never make it. For Don, he had to be right. And for that scared little college girl. For Don and for Chrissie.

Terry moved away to hang the map. As long as she could keep busy, she wouldn't have to think. She realized that that, whether Charlie would admit it or not, was also attributing to his frenzied, ceaseless work.

She finished unrolling the huge map and taped it to the wall with David's help. With nothing to occupy her hands, she began to pace. David caught her arm and whispered in her ear, "Want some coffee or something?"

"That would be wonderful." She replied softly. He directed her to a chair and moved to the bathroom, where a two-cup coffee maker sat serenely on the counter. She curled up in the armchair, content, for the moment, anyway, to brood and worry. She played with the necklace at her throat as she watched Charlie's hand dance across the window. He was shifting from foot to foot, keeping his body and mind occupied, just as she was.

* * *

**32 hours, 37 minutes left**

**9:57 a.m.**

She was jolted awake about six hours later by Charlie's triumphant shout. "I've got it!"

"You figured it out?" Half-dazed by the only six hours of sleep she'd gotten in nearly three days, she was a little groggy. "The whole equation?"

"Well, the part that will give us the square. See, I think he's giving me an area to work with, then we have to figure out where exactly he is. I think if we find _him,_ we'll find them. This will tell me how wide an area we need to search."

As he drew it out on the enormous map, a flutter rose in hear heart. Somewhere inside that not-so-big box was Chrissie Baxter. . .and Don.

"Done." Charlie said, relieved, as he stepped away from the wall. He admired his work, studying the square that covered about eight city blocks. Exhileration swelled in his heart as he glanced at his watch, calculating the time left. There was still thirty-two and a half hours! There was hope. _Hold on, Don_. He thought, as though his brother could hear his telepathic message. _We're coming. I promise._

"That's wonderful, Charlie! David, he's got it!" Terry called, assuming that her colleague, like herself, had fallen asleep somewhere.

"He went to pick Dad up at the airport." The small amount of jubilation that had colored Charlie's voice a moment ago had evaporated. His shoulders seemed to sag, as though dread, guilt, and fear were a physical weight on his thin frame.

"I thought you wanted your father to come." She said, confused.

"I did. I do. I don't know…" He laid the marker on the table with a sigh.

"So what is it?"

He looked away, obviously not too comfortable with answering.

"You can talk to me, Charlie."

"I promised." Charlie said, voice thick. "I promised to take care of him. What am I going to say to Dad?" Guilt reared again, so violently that he feared he might be sick. Try as he might to quash it, he couldn't quite erase the feeling. He knew, somewhere deep within, that he couldn't be blamed for what had happened. None of them could. _Still, _he thought as he began to re-check his equation, _I promised._ He had promised his mother that he would allow anything to happen to his older brother, and he knew that Don had sworn the same oath of him. They had promised and, even though he knew it wasn't so, Charlie felt as though he'd broken it. . . the only vow he'd ever taken that truly, deeply mattered to him.

He was saved the pain of worrying about it anymore, however, by the door flying open, revealing his father in the doorway. Before he could say anything, Alan Eppes had swept across the room and caught his younger son in a bone-crushing embrace. They stood together, silently, while David gently steered Terry through the adjoining door to her room, effectively giving father and son some privacy.

* * *

TBC….(hey, at least it isn't a cliffhanger this time…)

Midnight Dove: Glad you like it! Heh heh. . .I know I'm awful, but I just couldn't resist it! Something was bound to happen to him. I love David, too. I'm sad that he's not a very big character on the show yet. I think he's great. And very under-utilized. :Nod:

BrokenSpirit20: Commercial breaks always seem so long, don't they? I hate them. Who cares about the sponsors anyway? Here's an update, don't worry! I'm so honored that you like my story so much. Makes me feel great. -D

The Smiley: You have an awesome name! I really worked hard on Charlie's emotions this chapter for the reason you mentioned. I hope it comes across that way. Thank you!

wandering ghost: I'm glad you think it's getting better. It's really starting to drive me crazy. This is the longest, most in-depth, most difficult story I've ever written. It's very challenging. I am loving writing it, and I'm so glad you're enjoying reading it. The "girly coffee" conversation was fun to write, too. Thank you for the compliments, you make my day!

SapphireFae: I'm glad you think it's interesting, and I didn't end this chapter with a cliffhanger:) Hope you like it, and thank you for your review!

Teyla Sheppard: I'm really glad you like it:Blushes: I'm really enjoying writing it. Don't worry, we'll hear more from the kidnapper soon…and the next chapter should really make you smile. I grinned the whole time I was writing it, so I really hope you enjoy it. I know it's hard on Charlie. I made it that way. :evil grin: He's so much fun to torture, just because he's so dang cute. I'm glad the interaction came across well. I've worked really hard on this chapter, so I hope it comes across well.

strangexbutxtrue: :evil grin: Yes, Don. Thanks, I thought it was pretty good myself for 3:30 in the morning… x.x I thought it gave me a little leeway with the characters, and it makes me feel just a little better writing them, because a bit of OOCness can be excused in this case, I guess. I like your idea. I really like it. Hmmmm….yeah, definitely going to use that. Hey, you just re-wrote my whole ending, and I like it better! Thanks:Races off to find her notebook:

Len: Ah, yes, I am mean. But it is so much more fun to be on this side of the cliffhangers. :angelic smile: No cliffy this time, though. Yeah, math finals suck, don't they? I failed algebra 2 twice….that's why you won't find any real math references in the story. ECK! Don't you LOVE Don and Terry? Especially together! Hee hee…

SharpShooter626: Oh, yeah. I love to mess with my characters. :D I've done a lot, but don't worry too much. . . yet. :Whistles innocently to self:

LeoDiabla: Heh heh….I love you, Dylan! Don't worry, I'll take good care of Don. . . (Okay, I know that didn't sound as reassuring as I meant it to. . . Oops! Hee hee) Hey, somebody had to do it! It was inevitable-D

I'm glad you like it. The characterizations are stressing me more and more as I get into this story. AAAH! But as long as they're coming off good, it's worth all the re-writes I've done. I hope you like this chapter too. I know we're only on the fourth episode. . . :sniff: but hey, episode 5 comes out tonight:Happy grin:

AdiktedNos: Hey there to my favoritest little brother. Sorry, kid, your screen name wasn't hard to figure out. You know I love Don/Terry too, and cliffhangers are just too much fun to write. I couldn't help it. I'm finishing, I'm finishing! This is the only notebook I've carried for weeks, you know! LOL! Love, your sis

Takada Saiko: No, no, don't fall:Helps you up: There there, it'll be alright, I think. I'm glad you think I write well. This story is seriously stressful sometimes. EEK! Don't worry, Charlie will take care of him. . . NOBODY messes with Charlie's brother. Come to think of it, nobody messes with Don anyway. Thanks for your review!

Thanks, everyone!


	4. Chapter 3 and a half

At Kimmilein's request (which, of course I don't mind. (Especially when it's a good one. ;) ) Any suggestions and requests are more than welcome. It lets me know that you are truly interested in my story), this is Don's kidnapping from his own point of view...just a little half-chapter that I wrote while in the car on the way to visit my grandmother. I was seriously bored and carsick for more than half of it, so if it's not very good, I apologize...stuff happens. ;)

So, of course, I dedicate this chapter to her, because she gave me something to do for nearly six hours. :D Thanks for the idea.

I would also like to add that if you don't know that I don't own these characters by now, you obviously haven't been reading well, because I've explained that in every single chapter. And I'll say it again...I don't own it. No matter how many times I write to Santa and ask for the rights for Christmas. :Pouts:

Chapter 3 ½

_I followed my blonde friend down to the parking lot, smiling to myself. With any luck, Terry would know now that I was still very interested in a relationship. She seemed to be returning my attentions, so I kept the approach moving eagerly, but with caution. _

_As we strapped into the car, I attempted to control my shivering. It was March—too cold to be out in nothing but a short-sleeved dress shirt. I turned the heat on full-blast and pulled out into the street, throwing my companion a grin over my shoulder as I moved. _

_She smiled back, then quickly turned to gaze out the window. I wondered what that meant. She was impossible to read sometimes. _

_Clearing my throat, I slid her a sideways glance. "Last chance." I warned, digging through the front pocket of my shirt. "I'm ordering. Are you sure you don't want anything?"_

_She laughed, the sound filling my night with a ray of brightness. "I'm sure."_

"_Okay..." I replied in a teasing tone. I quickly dialed the number I'd programmed in before leaving the hotel, placed an order for my favorite (good old sweet-and-sour chicken), and flipped the phone closed, sliding it back into my pocket. _

_I got the feeling she was nervous, which was very uncommon for her. Suddenly, she burst out with, "Are you worried about this case?"_

_I was stunned for a moment at her outburst; then, I wasted about two full minutes trying to think of an adequate answer. Finally, my mind decided on, "Yes. It's always harder when the vic's just a kid, you know?" I shifted my weight again nervously and a hiss of pain threatened to escape when my gun drove hard into my hip. I reached down with my right hand and fumbled for the strap, nearly desperate to release myself from the relentless pain._

"_Would you let me help you with that before you get us both killed?" She asked quietly. I froze for a moment. **She wants to touch me? That's a new development**. She seemed to have been avoiding all physical contact with me for the past few weeks. Then I thought, almost angrily, **What are you complaining about, Eppes? Shut up and let her!** _

_I quickly realized that I was talking to myself (an unfortunate side-effect that seems to occur only in her presence) and removed my hand. Within seconds, her hands were toying with the strap, only slightly more gracefully than I had done. Again, I was struck by her uncharacteristic nervousness. Finally, she removed her hand, taking the gun with it, and laid my weapon on her lap. _

_I fought for something to say, "Thanks, that was really killing me."_

_She smiled at me again, "No problem."_

_I decidedthat nowwas an excellent time to take the plunge and ask the question that had been nagging at my mind for days. I pulled to a stop at a red light and turned to face her. "Terry, can I ask you something?"_

_She turned as well, and our eyes locked. My mouth went dry, and I felt my tongue stumbling to form words. This appeared to be another condition of the strange affliction that attacked only when I was near her. I blinked, breaking our gaze, "Before, when we were still dating, you said that-"_

_The squawk of a car's horn made me jump, and my train of thought flew straight out the window. I glanced up, realizing that the light had changed. **Curse it**. I thought angrily, turning onto East Avenue. **How come every time I try to have a conversation with this woman, something has to interrupt me?**_

"_Don?" Terry's gentle voice broke into my thoughts. _

"_There it is." I pointed across her body at a bright neon sign._

_Impatience tainted her words, "Yes, there it is. Now what were you saying?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in that way she always does._

_As I tried to remember exactly what I had been wanting to say, I silently cursed that van again and again. **If you had waited just two more seconds to interrupt me...** I eased into a space and killed the engine. "I...I'll tell you when I get back. I promise."_

_She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. "You'd better." _

_I resisted the urge to laugh at her cute irritation, which I knew would prove to be a bad call, and opened the door. "I will."_

_I hurried toward the restaurant, nearly suffocated in a cloud of my own thoughts. I pulled open the door and stepped inside, the bright lights nearly blinding me for a moment. When my vision cleared, I noticed two strange things. One was that there was another customer in the store, an enormous man of about twenty-five seated next to the windows two tables from the door. Someone else apparently shared my late-night cravings. However, the other bizarre thing was that no food sat before him. He was simply staring at the tabletop, silent as a tomb. _

_I shrugged this abnormality off and made my way to the counter. "An order for Eppes?" I asked the boy, who was studying me with some kind of strange curiosity. Maybe he wasn't used to crazy people running about in short-sleeved shirts in March. He pulled a paper bag from under the counter and slapped it down in front of me. "Please 8.99." _

_As an afterthought, I added a can of Coke, Terry's favorite, to my order. An apology, I suppose. I paid for my purchases, tucked them under my arm, and hurried toward the door. The kid behind the counter was gone before I crossed half the distance. As I passed the stranger by the window, I noticed that he appeared to be preparing to leave as well. I pushed the door open with my shoulder and stepped out into the icy air._

_I hadn't made it three steps when the finely-tuned and trained hairs on the back of my neck leapt to attention. Something was wrong here. _

_Before I could decide exactly what it was, a huge, meaty hand clamped over my mouth. With my hands full of food and Coke, I could do nothing but let out a small yelp of surprise, which was quickly swallowed by the invading flesh. I twisted violently, trying to free myself. Finally, I acknowledged the fact that I would have to lose my dinner to save my butt. And that pissed me off._

_I dropped the food and Terry's Coke and spun, hand going for the gun that wasn't at my hip. I cursed and took on a defensive stance. I was good at weaponless defense, but against this 400 pound crazy man, I knew I wouldn't last long. My only hope was that Terry might come looking for me or that the boy behind the counter inside would notice my plight._

_Psycho-pseudo-wrestler-boy lunged at me, and I sidestepped it, letting him lumber past. **So far, so good**, I congratulated myself. _

_I had partied too soon. What I had mistaken for stupidity and flab actually turned out to be concealing fast, corded muscle and more brains than I thought possible. He spun immediately and came lumbering back at me, and this time, I didn't have the chance to move. He plowed into me with the force of an on-coming train, and I hit the pavement. Hard. The back of my head snapped off the concrete, tiny white stars popping in my vision._

_Before I could clear my vision, he was on top of me, straddling my stomach and pressing a wet white cloth over my face. The familiar sickly-sweet scent of chloroform filled my mouth and nose, and I immediately held my breath to keep the drug from doing its work. I struggled and swung my right fist, connecting with the side of his face with a satisfying "crunch". He growled, furious, and grabbed my flailing wrist. With a movement I've only seen used by other agents, he twisted hard enough that a crack split the night. White pain flared up my arm, and I let out a cry that was drowned by the cloth and the hand holding it._

_Black began to creep into my vision, and I knew that I'd lost this fight. There was only one of me, and he had a lot more advantage. I hate to give up, but there's no other choice in this situation. As I feel the strength leaving my body, I consider my brother's reaction when he discovers what is happening, and send my team a quick telepathic message...**Watch out for him, guys. Take care of him.**__I also think of Terry, and I cast a prayer to my brother likewise—**Take care of her, too, Charlie. **_

_And then everything goes black, and the sting of the cold and the pain of my broken arm mercifully leave as well. It's over._

* * *

Okay, there you go, hon. Thank you again for the idea. And since my 11-year-old cousin is DYING for the computer, I'll write personal notes for both last chapter andthis half-chapter when I update next, which will be very soon. Promise. Thank you all again. You're wonderful. 


	5. The Game

**Disclaimer: **la de da…still don't own them, though I still wish I did!

**Dedication: **This chapter goes to strangexbutxtrue, who completely re-wrote my whole ending (from halfway through this chapter at the phone call on)for me with her phone-call suggestion. It's my favorite part of this chapter, and without your help, it wouldn't have happened. _Thank you!_ Oh, and, of course, to Alisha, whose mantra of, "Oh, suck it up and _write_ already! Just drink some more coffee, you're not that tired!" was about the only thing that got me through this. Thanks for all your not-so-subtle-or-really-very-helpful help, girl. You know I love you.

* * *

CHAPTER 4: The Game

**27 hours, 38 minutes left  
3:19 p.m.**

Charlie sighed, gazing at the square on the map. When he'd first discovered the rectangle, it had seemed so small and insignificant. He felt sure that he could handle whatever was in that square. After all, eight city blocks wasn't that big, right?

That was before he'd learned, however, that the entire rectangle was a condemned zone, and that every building in that zone was empty and abandoned. The man they were searching for could be anywhere. He leaned his forehead against the cool paper, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He could do this. He had to. Everyone was counting on him.

A gentle hand came to rest on his back, between his shoulderblades. "How're you doing, son?" Alan asked, studying his youngest with a concerned eye.

"I'll be fine, Dad." He assured his father, pulling back from the map and studying it again. "I just need some more coffee."

"When was the last time you slept, Charles?"

Charlie winced internally. He knew he was in trouble. "I. . .I don't remember." He confessed, avoiding his father's gaze by studying the map again, hoping against hope to find any clue… _anything_. "Hey…hey, Dad! Look at this!" How had he missed it?

Alan leaned over, his tired eyes trying to find whatever it was that had Charlie so excited. "What, Charlie? I don't see it."

Charlie leaned forward as well and pointed to the tiny printed name of a long alley they had somehow missed, "Baxter Circle".

"Baxter Circle?" Alan repeated, staring incredulously at his son. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"The kidnapped girl…her name was Chrissie Baxter, Dad. Do you think it's just a coincidence?"

"Could be. Then again, what other leads do you have?"

"Absolutely nothing, except that the man who took Don and Chrissie is somewhere in this square." He blinked back a new wash of tears. Now that his part of the investigation was over, it was finally beginning to sink in. . .he could lose his brother forever.

Alan's hand landed on the top of his son's head, gently stroking back the curls and tucking them behind Charlie's ear. "It's going to be okay, Charlie." He said, much more conviction sounding in his words than he felt in his heart.

The younger man nodded, allowing himself to be pulled into a gentle embrace. "I'm proud of you, son." Alan told his youngest. "Not many people could have done what you did with that kind of pressure."

"It's not over yet, Dad…" Charlie pulled away gently. "Where _are_ Terry and David with those officers?"

* * *

**23 hours, 57 minutes left  
5:03 p.m.**

Charlie gazed out the window as David careened wildly around street corners, traffic, and anything else that got in his way, lights whirling and siren blaring. He squealed to a stop in the middle of a silent, deserted street and shut off the engine. The lights and siren died instantly.

"Seventeen minutes." He reported proudly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Yeah, and next time, I drive, Speed Demon." Terry retorted, climbing shakily from the back of the car and silently worshiping the solid ground beneath her feet. "Well, where are we?"

"At one end of Baxter Circle, which, ironically, doesn't go in a circle." Charlie's voice was as close to sarcasm as either of his companions had ever heard. He climbed down from the car and stood in the middle of the street, gazing despondently at the deserted alley. It was lined on both sides with empty houses and storefronts. Broken windows and graffitied walls gave the entire street a desolate look. As he stood on the broken pavement, trying to decide exactly how long these buildings had been in disrepair and how safe they would be to enter, another thought crossed his mind. "Hey, Terry?"

She turned at the sound of his voice, and he was confronted with the first true look he'd had of her in two days. Her skin was ghastly pale, her eyes dull and red-rimmed (had she been crying?), and she looked uncharacteristically disheveled. "Yes?"

He shook his head, clearing it. "Are you sure I'm, uh. . .allowed to be here?"

Her eyes widened as though this thought hadn't yet occurred to her. Her look of surprise slowly changed to thought. "You know, I'm not really sure. But. . ." She shrugged. "We don't have the time to care. You stay, and I'll take the heat if it goes down."  
He nodded, and she offered him a weak smile before turning back to the crews assembled before her. Just as she began to bark out orders, taking the lead as she'd been instructed, Charlie's cell phone rang. He glanced around, afraid to answer, but at David's encouraging nod, he pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID window, "Unknown Number".

Hesitantly, he answered it, "Hello?"

"I—Is this Doctor Eppes?" The voice was small, unfamiliar, and very frightened.

"Yes…who is this?" His voice sounded just as unsure as hers.

"My n-name is Christine Baxter."

"Oh, my. . .Chrissie Baxter!"

"Yes." She sniffed slightly, as if trying to control her tears. "Y—your brother gave me your n-number."

He was bursting with a million questions, but he knew he needed to get some help to Chrissie right away. Hadn't Don told him something about FBI tracing cell phone signals? "Hang on, Chrissie. TERRY! DAVID! Come here, quick!" He called. "Is Don with you?" He asked the frightened girl, knowing his voice sounded as desperate as he felt.

"Yes, he's. . . here." Her voice was breaking up, but it wasn't fear that was causing it. Static was beginning to cloud her words. ". . . talk to him?"

"Yes! Hurry, Chrissie, I'm losing your signal!"

David drew up beside him. "Hold on, Charlie. We'll see if we can get a trace. Give me a minute and a half." He was already dialing his own phone as he spoke.

"I need you to stay with me." Charlie called into the phone. "Can you hear me?"

"Charlie?" The voice this time was familiar and welcome, however unsteady.

"Don?" Tears of relief sprang to his eyes. "Don, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. . .." He could hear the lie in his older brother's voice, but he didn't dare counter it. "Just. . . careful, okay?"

"Don? Donnie, I'm losing you! Don?"

". . .know. Be careful. . .love you."

Charlie cursed under his breath. "Love you, too, Don." He said softly, unsure if his brother could even hear him. Only static answered.

He gave up and closed the phone. David had his back to him and was speaking hurriedly, "Okay. . .yes, okay. Got it. No, that's alright. Thank you."

He hung up and turned to the younger man, who was nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, clutching his phone so hard that David feared he might shatter it. He grinned, the first true smile any of them had given in two days, "We got it."

A wave of relief so powerful it made his head spin washed over the breathless consultant. "You got it." He repeated breathlessly, hopefully "Where?"

"1302 Baxter Circle. You were right." He offered, patting the shorter man's shoulder with a concerned smile. "Come on, let's move."

* * *

**23 hours, 26 minutes left  
3:34 p.m.**

Charlie followed the squadron of special agents down the shattered sidewalk. He was amazed by the incredible silence they somehow managed to maintain. They made only slightly more sound than a snowfall when they moved.

The whole troop paused outside the door of house 1302, arranging themselves on the porch. Just as Terry raised her arm to execute the order to go through the door, Charlie's cell phone rang cheerfully. He waved at Terry to catch her attention, then held out the phone so that she could examine the ID window, "Don Cell".

She gave him the go-ahead, so he opened it, accepted the call, and answered, "What?"

"Incredible work, Doctor Eppes. You solved the puzzle with nearly a day left to go. We're very impressed."

Though he noted the change from "I" to "we", Charlie decided not to comment on that at the moment. Terry pressed a small scrap of paper into his hand, _Stall him_, She had written, _Ask about Chrissie and Don. 90 seconds to trace. Hopefully, he hasn't taken out the GPS chip. _She moved away, searching her pockets for her cell phone.

"Can we have Chrissie and Don back now that we've played your game?" Charlie asked, doing his best to force the waver out of his voice.

"You've played only part of the game, Charles. Only half." He leered, clearly enjoying the torment and worry in Charlie's voice. Terry had found her phone and was dialing as quickly as her fingers would move. The other agents were still frozen on the porch, waiting for a command. "And tell your little blonde agent to get off that phone or the game ends now, and they both die."

Frantically, Charlie waved at Terry, trying to catch her attention before the call went through. "He can see you!" He mouthed to her. "Put it away!"

She scowled, but obeyed, moving back to join the other agents on the porch and speaking to David in hushed, rapid tones. This guy was really beginning to get on her nerves.

"Now listen carefully, Charles, because I'm only going to say this once." The stranger's voice had changed from cold to oily in the instant he'd been silent. "There's a riddle you have to solve before you go in there. One single wrong move, and not only will the girl and your brother die, but so will everyone inside with you. Are you ready?"

He swallowed. There was no time to think, no time to ask for advice. He had to make this decision, and he had to make it now. "Yes."

"Good answer. I know your specialty is mathematics, but I wanted to give you a little bit of a challenge. You can handle it. Now, inside that house, the door opens immediately onto a hallway with nine other doors. One door leads to the Baxter girl and to your brother. If you open that door, you can leave with them, no repercussions. However, there is an explosive device wired to the back of each of the incorrect doors. Open the wrong one, and that sets it off. The house will be demolished before you have the chance to move. Ready? Here's the riddle:

_Every door before you see  
One and four and two and three  
The one behind and both ahead  
Will not go where you want led  
Of the most, the first erase  
One of the rest must you embrace  
Six are left from which to choose  
Center doors are both ill news  
The door you seek is on the side  
That the greatest number does not reside  
Two are left, just one hint more  
The choice you want is one lone door.  
_Got it? Good luck, Charles." With that, the voice on the phone died and Charlie was alone, repeating the crazy words in his mind over and over.

"Charlie? Charlie, are you okay?" It took Terry's hand on his arm to bring him back to the present. "What did he say? What's going on?"

He explained to her as quickly as he could, his voice stumbling over the words now firmly imprinted in his mind as he repeated the peculiar riddle. His throat suddenly seemed closed, his chest tight. How on earth was he ever going to manage to think out a riddle with his brother's life on the line?

"Okay, then." She said softly when he'd finished. Her voice brought him back to reality, an anchor that he'd never been more grateful for. "I think it would be best if we took only a few people in. Do you want to come, or do you want to give me the puzzle and wait out here?"

He nodded immediately. "I can't stand just hanging around here anymore." He confessed.

"Then it will be just you, me, and David, plus a couple of gunmen…just for safety." She turned to the crowd assembled on the steps and drew a shaky breath. The fear in Charlie's eyes, she knew, was a mirrored image of the terror in her own. Despite everyone's repeated assurances, she felt responsible for Don's condition. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him. She had to be strong. There would be time for emotions later. "Stand down, everyone. Moore and Templeton, you come with us. David, you and Charlie and I are going in. There are explosives in there, so everyone watch your step."

Jordan Moore and Andrew Templeton, two well-built and well-trained sharpshooters that had been with the bureau longer than even Don had, carefully made their way in the front door and cleared the hall, then stood back against the wall as instructed, looking calm and unshaken; the other end of the spectrum from any emotions Charlie was having. The young genius stood in the middle of the unlit hall and gazed at the wooden room, slowly spinning around on the creaky floorboards. Terry was leaning against the wall for support, watching him. David stood next to her, waiting patiently, looking an awful lot more concerted than she felt. She knew that he wasn't nearly as together as he looked, however. In the short time she'd known David Sinclair, she had learned that beneath his hardened exterior lay an emphatic and caring person. His faux calmness helped ease her zinging nerves, however. She laid a hand on Charlie's arm and signaled for silence, then called in a soft and carrying tone, "Chrissie? Don? Can you hear me?"

Only the silence of an lifeless home answered her. Something scuttled along the baseboard beside her, and she concentrated on not jumping. She was far too unnerved. "Christine? Don? Answer me if you can!" She kept her voice low, but made sure that it was conveying through the thick walls and doors. Again, there was no answer.

"They're probably unconscious. This guy wouldn't want it to be too easy, right?" Terry had always thought that Jordan Moore had had a pleasant voice, but right now, she wanted nothing more than to slap her soundless. The woman seemed far too unconcerned about the lives that were in their hands, leaning against the wall, arms crossed lazily across her chest, safety goggles dangling from one nonchalant finger, looking for all the world as though she were sitting across a table, discussing life over drinks.

"Then we're going to have to do this his way. What's the first line, Charlie?"

"'Every door before you see, one and four and two and three.'" He repeated immediately, gazing around the room.

"That obviously refers to the doors." David pointed out with a small smile. Charlie chuckled obligingly, but there was no humor in the sound. The southern door, the one they had entered through, was the only one on that wall. The western wall had four tall, wide-set mahogany doors. The northern wall had two more exactly like them, and the eastern wall had another matching set of three.

Before anyone could ask the dazed mathematician, Charlie rattled off the next lines, "'The one behind and both ahead will not go where you want led.'"

"Okay, scratch the north and south walls then." Andrew Templeton piped in. "Here." To help clarify, he moved Jordan before the door they'd entered through and went to stand in front of the northern wall. Terry smiled at him, appreciating the gesture. She was sure that even Charlie, under pressure like this, was going to have trouble keeping the cancelled doors straight.

Charlie paced on, "'Of the most, the first erase; one of the rest must you embrace.'"

"That would be…which one, exactly?" Terry chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.

David turned to face the western wall. "'Of the most would obviously refer to the most number of doors'…and since everything else has been mapped from the front door, my safest guess to which was the 'first' would be the far left door." He snatched Jordan's safety glasses from her hand and laid them on the floor before the aforementioned door.

Terry took an unsteady breath, "Then what?"

"'Six are left from which to choose,'" A glance around revealed this to be accurate, and Charlie pressed on, "'The center doors are both ill news.'"

"Okay, then." David nodded and he and Terry simultaneously moved to stand before the remaining center doors—second from the right on the western wall and in the center of the eastern wall.

"'The door you seek is on the side that the greatest number does not reside.'" Charlie closed his eyes. The tension and fear was clouding his mind, muddling his thoughts. Don's voice echoed through his head, _"Detachment is everything, Charlie. Someday, it might save your life."_ Forcing his eyes to open and his mind to clear, he nodded. "The western wall is out, then." He said tentatively. "So here are the last two lines: 'Two are left, just one hint more; the choice you want is one lone door.'"

"'One lone door?'" Terry repeated. "But the only 'lone' door is the one we came in! What is he saying, that we have to chance it?"

"I don't know." Charlie confessed, studying the wall of doors. _One lone door, one lone door. That **has** to mean something…_ He continued to gaze at the wall, but no answers leapt from the wood.

David came to his side and tossed Jordan's goggles back to her, studying the eastern wall with the same pensive look as Charlie's. "I think…I think he meant this door." He pointed to the far right door. "Compared to the other one, it's lone…just one door on one side, instead of two."

"Well," Terry, too, moved to stand beside Charlie, flanking him between her and David. "There's only one way to find out."

"It was my suggestion...I'll open it." Raising his chin, David crossed the protesting floorboards and laid a hand on the handle. Terry caught Charlie's arm in both hands, holding her breath. Somewhere in his subconscious, he noted that her hands were trembling.

David's eyes closed as he twisted the handle. He _had _to be right. Taking a deep breath, he gave the door a shove, bracing himself for a wave of indescribable heat. Instead, a breath of cold air washed over him, and his eyes sprang open. He was alive, and he was right!

The room, at first glance, appeared to be empty, and his heart sank. When he stepped farther in, however, a closet along the left-hand wall jumped into view. He heard the footsteps of the rest of his squad as he hurried toward it. He threw the door open, and, lying on the floor of the dusty, bug-corpse-littered closet, were the rewards of their search, both as limp and unmoving as death. He knelt immediately, feeling first for a pulse at Chrissie's throat, then Don's. He looked over his shoulder at the gathered crowd, gasping for breath, though he hadn't been running. "Alive. They're both alive."

Charlie seemed to collapse against the wall, and Terry let out a sound that was half-sob, half exhalation. "Oh, thank God. Let's get them out of here." She rasped, moving forward on unstable legs to help him. Jordan and Andrew were examining Charlie with concern.

David nodded, pulled a pocket knife from his hip, and gently cut Don's zip-tie bonds away, then slung one of his arms around his shoulder. Andrew started forward to help, but Charlie caught his arm. "Can I?"

Andrew shrugged, "Sure, kid. Knock yourself out."

Charlie moved in David's direction, catching his brother's arm and awkwardly pulling it over his shoulders, then clumsily followed David's lead, sliding his left arm under his brother's knees and using his right hand to hold Don's arm in place. His brother's breath on his cheek brought tears to his eyes, but he blinked them back. They needed to get out of this deathtrap first.

Andrew had gone to help Terry, instead, and they followed Charlie and David out the door, hurrying as quickly as they dared. Jordan, finally serious, followed as a cover.

They stumbled out the front door into the freezing night beyond, and Charlie was glad to see that one of the agents had had the good sense to call for ambulances, which waited at the curb, red-and-white lights reflecting off the otherwise-empty street. As soon as they cleared the porch, EMTs swarmed over them, lifting Don and Chrissie from their arms and hurrying them toward the waiting ambulances.

Charlie watched them go, unsure what to do. Terry's gentle hand on his shoulder caught his attention, "…Charlie!"

"Sorry, what?"

"Go with them, I said. Go with Don, wait at the hospital. Call your father. We're going to finish here."

"Okay. Thanks, Terry. Hey! Hey, you! Wait!" He clasped her hand for just a moment, then raced after the ambulance that had already loaded Don. "I'm his brother, and I'm coming with you!"

Terry smiled after him, "Take care of them, Charlie!" and turned back to the house to wait for the bomb squad, but her heart went with the screeching ambulance, and she was blinking away tears.

_TBC…_

* * *

Wow. Longness. I am _so_ sorry for my lack of updates. This chapter was _hell_. Seriously. I thought it was going to be my favorite chapter to write, but…wow. I don't really care for it, but it was the best out of the ideas I had come up with. I tried to make it work:) They _will_ get better, I promise. Hey, it could be worse…I was going to end this chapter with David's hand on the doorknob. Then Alisha decided for me that that was too mean. She spoils all my fun:) Now for thanks!

Midnight Dove: Who _wouldn't_ want to hug Charlie! Hee hee…I'm glad you like it! Thank you for sticking with me so long. You're wonderful!

The Smiley: Thank you for the compliment…Charlie's surprisingly hard to write sometimes, so I'm not often sure how well it comes across. And yes, he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve. Gotta love him! My favorite part of the show is the family interaction, so I try to bring it across in my stories as well as I can. Thanks for the sweet review, you're awesome.

Leo Diabla: Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…What are we going to do with you:Shakes head: You're great, girl. You make me laugh like no one else. Charlie certainly does rock, doesn't he? Love that man!

Takada Saiko:Blushes like mad: It's nice to know you enjoy it so much! It just makes my day when people like my story! And, I feel as though I've said this somewhere before, CHARLIE RULES! Hee hee…he got Don back, see! YAY! Hope you can stay in your seat this time!

Kimmlein: Wow, I'm indescribably glad that you liked your gift chapter. It was the source of six hours of sweat and nausea for me. I'm so glad the end result was worth it. I hope chapter four is worth the read as well. Thank you for all your wonderful encouragement, girl. I'm so glad you're enjoying it.

strangexbutxtrue: I'm glad you liked the beginning part, and I hope you liked the phone call. I don't know if that's what you had in mind, but it popped into my head and my muse clung to it like a life preserver. Stupid thing, I swear I'm going to fire it. LOL. Thanks for all your reviews. You're great!

BrokenSpirit20: Darn them anyway, right? Stupid sponsors. ;) Here's a chapter for your addiction, and I hope it's worth it! Thanks so much for your review.

Teyla Sheppard: I'm so glad you like it. Yes, shame on me, but I am enjoying it! Hee hee! Don and Terry are _so_ meant to be together. They just _work_, you know? The chemistry is right in your face, isn't it? And I guess we learned a little more about David in _Sabotage_. :Blinks: wow, that was awesome with the way he handled that bomb, wasn't it? He rocks, too. Thanks for your great review. You make me grin like a mindless loon.

Lady-of-the-Rings: I'm glad you love it. That thrills me. And Don and Chrissie are alive, if not necessarily in the best condition. You'll have to wait and see! Thanks for the great review. You're awesome.

wandering ghost: Oh, geez, you make my cheeks hurt from so much smiling. Your review totally made my night. I'm so glad you've enjoyed it. I hope this chapter is up to par…Thanks _so_ much for your review.

Kimmilein: (again, LOL) Thank you, thank you, thank you:hugs: As I said, I am SO glad you liked it. You rock! Again!

Teyla Sheppard: Thanks again! You're awesome for reviewing even this chapter. It was actually kind of fun and relaxing to write, because it was just a fill-in, you know? I'm glad you enjoyed it anyway, and thank you again for your review.

Leo Diabla:Blushes some more: Wow, the blushworks are getting a workout tonight. I'm glad the POV came across well to you. It was fun to write from Don's POV. He's got a don't-mess-with-me attitude that's so fun to put on paper. Thanks for the review, hon! You so very rule!

Chibi Chingo: Thank you! I hope you like this one as well, and thanks tons for your review.

Belligerent-road-pylon: Let me tell you, it is so much more fun to be on _this_ side of cliffhangers. I love to write them, but I try to minimalize them so as not to give my readers brain aneurisms or heart attacks or something. Hee hee… but thanks for your review, and LOOK! Don is back, and let me tell you, the next chapter's going to be a wild ride!

THANKS AGAIN EVERYONE! YOU MAKE ME SMILE LIKE NOTHING ELSE!

Next chapter: Emotional family reunion (if I'm good at anything, it's sap, let me tell you, and it _will_ flow freely in chapter 5), a track-down of a criminal, and a weird twist. Plus, more Don/Terry stuff. Oh, yes, it will pick up.


	6. Climbing

Well, 'tis the night of March the fifth, just after I've posted _The Game_. I feel…empowered. I think I might be able to actually crank out something really decent this chapter. I hope. :) Let's see what happens, shall we? Ah…no more crazy math to work out that countdown. :Takes a deep breath of free air: So nice.

**Disclaimer:** LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAA :Sticks fingers in ears: I can't _hear_ you! Who says I have to disclaim anything? Oh, right. Those people that actually _own_ the show. Darn it. Oh, don't own Skittles or Starbursts or Mars bars or Milky Ways or Snickers either, and that's probably a good thing, because I eat _way_ too much of that stuff already. Or Aquafina either! Wow, lots of brand names in this chapter.

**Dedication: **To a special friend who definitely needs the pick-me-up. She knows who she is. I hope your week looks up, honey. Here's to you.

* * *

Chapter 5: Climbing

Charlie paced the worn linoleum tiles of the hospital's waiting room, hands clutched behind his back. To occupy his mind, he mentally calculated the price of the candy in the glass-fronted vending machine across the lobby. _Eight bags of Skittles at 0.75 a pack makes six dollars, and eleven packages of Starburst at 0.65 is 7.15…wow, this stuff is really overpriced. _

He glanced around again, sharp dark eyes taking in everything in the room. His father had promised to be at the hospital "in just a minute", but already ten minutes had passed. _Where is he?_ He went back to his math, _Mars bars…4 of them at 0.75 is three bucks, 4 Milky Ways would be 3.00 too, and 9 Snickers bars at 75 cents is 6.75, so altogether, that row is at—_

"Charlie!" The voice was urgent, fearful, and almost desperate.

"Dad!" He crossed the room in five strides, and his father embraced him.

"Don?" He asked into his son's hair.

"I don't know. I haven't heard anything since they took him away. He looked…looked pretty messed up, Dad."

His father's arms tightened around him, "He'll be alright, Charlie. He's strong, our Don. He wouldn't let someone break him like that. Don't worry." Alan's voice sounded sure, but Charlie could hear the underlying uncertainty.

"I know, Dad." He assured his father, then pulled away and led Alan by the elbow to a row of bright blue plastic chairs. "Sit down, you look pretty pale. You want something to drink?"

"Uh…sure, that would be good. Just water, please." He reached into his pocket for his wallet, but Charlie waved him away.

"I've got it, Dad." He hurried across the lobby to feed a dollar bill and a quarter into the Aquafina machine. He pushed the button, and a cold bottle dropped into the slot. He carried it back to his father and twisted the cap off.

Alan took a long pull and then sat back, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. "I'm getting too old for you boys to be pulling stunts like this."

A small smile tugged at the edges of Charlie's lips. "I didn't do anything this time!"

One dark eye cracked open. "I hear you went into a bomb-ridden house after your brother."

A sheepish look crossed the younger man's exhausted face. "I wanted to be there to help. I _had _to. You know that."

"I know, and nothing makes me more proud than the way you were willing to put your life on the line for him." Alan confessed. "You were absolutely amazing, Charlie. I hope you know that."

Charlie's slight smile faded. "I had a _lot_ of help, Dad. It's all a blur now. I don't know how I did it. I really didn't think I was going to be able to. The last two days…they were like losing Mom all over again. Only worse, actually, I think. Mom, at least, I had some time to get used to the idea. I didn't do a very good job, but at least I got it. With Don…it was like…one moment he was there and the next he was gone, and I might not ever get to see him again." Moisture danced in his eyes, but he refused to let it gather. He tipped his head back, studying the criss-cross pattern of cut plastic covering the fluorescent lights over his head. The light helped to disperse his tears.

Alan nodded, understanding. He reached out and patted Charlie's hand, which was hanging limply at his side. Then he caught his son's hand and gently tugged on it, pulling Charlie down into the chair beside him. "Relax. You've done all you can; you've done your job. Now you have to trust the doctors to do theirs." He was forcing calmness, hoping to still his son's fears while his own raged. He wanted to scream, to cry, to do an whole host of other unmanly things, but he forced his temper farther down. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around Charlie's shoulders, and he was surprised when Charlie fell into the embrace and rested his head on his father's shoulder. Charlie had never been very good at emotional contact, but, Alan reminded himself, he was still completely human, a hurt and worried brother in desperate need of comfort.

Within minutes, Charlie was fast asleep, and though Alan's shoulder and arm were beginning to fall asleep as well, he didn't move them. Instead, he strained for a magazine on the end table and opened it, pretending to read an article on hummingbirds.

An hour later, Alan had read exactly four words, lost all feeling in his arm, and was really beginning to reach the end of his rope when the lobby doors opened, and Terry and David, both looking uncharacteristically unkempt and both looking as though they were falling asleep on their feet. Alan held a finger to his lips and nodded at his youngest.

Terry smiled affectionately down at Charlie, and David dropped into a chair beside Alan, "Any news?" He whispered.

Alan snorted softly. "Of course not. They love to leave you hanging in places like this. They get a kick out of it, you know."

Terry and David exchanged a small smile, and then Terry pushed her hands into her back pockets, palms out, and rocked back on her heels. "I thought you'd like to know that we found Don's cell phone."

"You did? Where?"

"We traced the signal to a house across the street from where we found him. This was with it. Does it make any sense to you?" Terry opened the folder she'd brought and handed Alan a large plastic evidence bag. Inside was an incredibly well-drawn pencil drawing of a boy, about eight or nine, and a baby. On the back was written, _You've won. Just don't think that the game is completely over yet._

Alan shrugged, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the inscription. "No idea." He said, handing it back to her.

The glass doors whooshed open again, and four people blazed through them. Terry recognized one at Alexei Trent, Chrissie's roommate, but the other three were unfamiliar, a young man in his late twenties and an older couple, a heavyset woman and a small, bald, wiry man. The woman was leaning heavily on her husband, tears careening freely down her cheeks.

"Sorry, we got a little lost on the way here." Alexei explained with a glare in the younger man's direction. "Agent Lake, Agent Sinclair, this is Donna, Mark, and Johnnie Baxter, Chrissie's parents and brother." Alexei said formally, gesturing first to the couple and then to the younger man. They studied the four for a moment before the woman broke free of her husband's arm and raced toward Terry, who took a surprised step back.

She wasn't fast enough, however, and in an instant, she was wrapped in an embrace tight enough to press the air from her lungs. "You are the ones that found my Chrissie?" She sobbed into Terry's hair.

"We had a lot of help, ma'am." David answered for Terry, seeing as his partner's face was pushed into the woman's enormous shoulder.

Donna released Terry and squeezed David, who was still seated next to Alan, still blubbering incoherently. David awkwardly patted her back and gave Terry a _help-me_ glance, which she countered with a _what-do-you-want-me-to-do_ shrug.

Mark was slightly more rational than his wife, and he stepped forward to wring one of Terry's hands in both of his, "Thank you so much. How could we ever repay you?"

Terry grinned at him, relieved that he seemed content to keep his distance from her personal space. "Your thanks is more than enough compensation, sir." She replied professionally, running a dusty hand through her untidy hair.

Mark Baxter moved on to rescue David from his wife's clutches, and Johnnie replaced him, thanking her softly and sincerely. She smiled at him and he moved on as well.

Johnnie collapsed into the chair next to Charlie. "No news on her condition?" He asked Alan warmly.

"Nothing. Charlie here came in on the ambulance, watched the doctors take them away, and has been waiting here since. That was about an hour and a half ago."

Johnnie nodded and leaned back in the chair. "So we wait."

Alan nodded. "We wait."

* * *

And they did. Across from David, Alan, Charlie (who slept on, despite the noticeable increase in noise), and Johnnie sat Terry, Donna and Mark, and Alexei. The group waited in silence. Though several of them had picked up magazines and were flipping through them mindlessly, it was obvious that nothing was holding their attention.

It was nearly another two hours before a solemn-faced doctor emerged through the swinging doors between the vending machines across the room. Alan gently woke his youngest son, glad to have the circulation flowing freely to his arm once more. "Doctor's here." He told the disoriented young man.

Charlie nodded, rested his elbows on his knees, and ran his fingers thorough his hopelessly tangled curls. The doctor drew to a stop before them and slowly stripped off his rubber gloves like some unhinged TV doctor. "Hey there. I'm Doctor Coursen, and I have good news for you." He said, and Charlie's head snapped up.

"Both Agent Eppes and Chrissie should be fine. Chrissie had some swelling in her right wrist, we've taken X-rays. We're not sure what he drugged them with, but whatever it was was _very_ powerful. Probably knocked them both out in seconds. When Chrissie wakes up, she should be fine, I believe. We'll want to keep her here for a couple of days for observation." Donna let out a sob of relief and collapsed against her husband.

Now Doctor Coursen turned to Alan and Charlie. "You are Agent Eppes's father, correct?"

"I am." Alan rose and shook the man's hand.

"You should be mighty proud of your son, sir. He's suffered quite a concussion, a badly broken arm, both the ulna and the radius, and his right ankle is definitely broken; I believe the left one is just a sprain, though. Won't know until we get the X-rays back, of course. Came through like a trooper, though. It looks like he put up one hell of a fight." He chuckled, Alan allowed his first true smile to burst forth, and Charlie's entire body sagged with relief.

"That sounds like my Donnie. I _am _proud of him, Doctor. I'm proud of both of them." He smiled down at his younger son.

"I am a bit concerned about the drug and how it will react to his concussion. We won't know for sure until he wakes up, so I don't want to do any surgery on his arm or ankle until then. We can't give him any painkillers until then either, so he'll probably be in some pain when he wakes up."

"Can we see them?" Alan and Donna asked at the same time.

"I don't see why not." The doctor shrugged, rewarding them with a smile. "Follow me." He led them down the pale, lifeless halls of the hospital. "We've moved them out of the ICU already; didn't see the point of making them stay when all we're doing is waiting for them to wake up. There'll be a doctor in the room at all times until they do, though. Ah, here's Miss Baxter's room."

He stopped and pushed open a pink door, revealing a brightly-lit room. The sleeping girl lay in a bed in the center, hooked to several machines. "She was slightly dehydrated, so we've got her on an IV and when she wakes, make sure she drinks as much as she can." He directed this last statement at an elderly female doctor with a cloud of puffy white curls pulled up on top of her head, who was sitting in a pink-and-turquoise-flowered-chair and reading a romance novel. She nodded at him and went back to the book.

Terry, David, Alan, and Charlie followed Dr. Coursen down the hall once more, the unnatural silence of the hospital building to a crescendo around them. When he finally stopped and laid a hand on the doorknob, he turned to Alan. "I have to warn you, Mr. Eppes, he looks a lot worse than he is. He has some deep bruising on his face, but no facial fractures. I assure you, he should be fine." With that, he opened the door and stepped aside.

"Oh, Lord…" Alan breathed, edging slowly into the room. He moved slowly to his son's side, slowly taking in the spectrum of colors that marked Don's normally-handsome face. Both cheeks were a rainbow of purples, greens, and yellows. His chin was equally bruised and his bottom lip was caked with dried blood and swollen to nearly twice its usual size. A breathing tube had been inserted, though Dr. Coursen assured him softly that it was just a precaution, and that Don was breathing fine on his own.

Alan didn't seem to have heard him. The kindly doctor that had been standing with Don brought Alan a chair, and he sank into it with a distracted, "thank you". He reached across the sheets and gently laid a hand on Don's, glancing up at the doctor, as if for permission.

Dr. Coursen nodded. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." He said softly, then excused himself, closing the door with an echoing _click _behind him.

Charlie hesitantly rested a hand on his father's shoulder. "Remember what you said, Dad. He's strong, he'll be fine."

David caught Terry's arm gently beneath the elbow and tipped his head in the direction of the door. She nodded.

"Listen, we don't all need to be here. Charlie has my cell phone number, would you give us a call when he wakes up?"

Alan didn't seem to hear her, so Charlie nodded. "I will. Take care."

She nodded, then leaned over to David. After a quick, whispered discussion, she turned back to Charlie. "We'll be back in a few hours so you and Mr. Eppes can get some sleep. We'll stay with Don then."

"Okay." He replied, and they slipped out, leaving the small family alone. Alan was gently running his thumb back and forth over the unbruised knuckles of Don's right hand. _My God, Donny, what happened to you? _

"Doesn't even look like him, does it?" He asked softly. It was so unusual to see him so melancholy that Charlie didn't quite know how to answer.

"Do you know what he told me a few weeks ago?" Alan went on, and Charlie was relieved to find that he wouldn't have to answer this question either, "He told me that he'd seriously been thinking about leaving the Bureau, that he knew how hard it was on us. But I'm glad he decided to stay. I really am. Because I know that he couldn't ever be happy doing anything else. He was meant to do things like this, Charlie. Meant to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. And he does a heck of a job of it. I'd never _want_ him to do anything else. He's doing just what he was supposed to do, and I would never want it any other way…even if it means a thousand moments just like this one. I couldn't be prouder."

And Charlie silently agreed.

* * *

Terry had no sooner gotten a shower, dried her hair, pulled on an oversized tee shirt and a pair of Garfield pajama pants, and slid between the sheets of the hotel bed when her cell phone rang. She groaned, but flipped it open eagerly when she saw Charlie's name on the ID window. "Hey there, Charlie. What's the news?"

"Hi, Terry. Just wanted to let you know that Chrissie is awake. She's very disoriented and pretty nauseated. They think it's from whatever he drugged her with. She'll be fine, though." Charlie's voice was exhausted and apologetic.

"Great." Terry told him enthusiastically. "Are they releasing her yet?"

"No, they're going to keep her for a few days. You'll be able to interview her later." Charlie, of course, knew exactly where her train of thought had been headed. She was relieved to hear that the interview could wait, exactly as he knew she'd be.

"'Kay. Thanks, Charlie."

"No problem. I'll call you in a few hours."

"Okay. Talk to you then."

"Bye."

"Bye."

She hung up and slid down between the covers. It would waste nearly an hour of her precious time before her overburdened conscience would allow her to fall into a very fitful and restless sleep.

By the time Terry and David arrived again in Don's room, Charlie had fallen asleep once more, curled up in the armchair next to his brother's bed. The on-duty doctor sat silently in the corner, a notebook computer open on his lap. There was no sign of Alan.

David gently shook the young consultant. "Hey, Charlie. Where's your dad?" He asked when the man's eyes opened.

"Went to get something to eat." Charlie's dark eyes slid immediately to the bed, gauging Don's condition. Satisfied that nothing had changed, he rose again and stretched. "I think he left about twenty minutes ago." He said, checking his sportswatch.

The agents exchanged slightly worried glances, but Charlie was quick to reassure them, "Doctor Coursen came back and offered to go with him."

"Oh, that was nice of him." Terry said, feeling relieved.

He agreed, then studied the pair critically. "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances." David replied, and Terry nodded her agreement.

"Great." He took a seat on the edge of his brother's bed. He leaned over Don to rearrange the blankets over his prone form. "As soon as Dad gets back , I'll try to drag him back to the hotel. He needs sleep."

"So do you." David pointed out gently.

Before Charlie could argue, the door opened and Alan stepped back into the room. He greeted the crowd with a wan smile. "How is he?"

"About the same." Charlie said softly.

Alan sighed and leaned against the foot of the bed. After a moment's pause, Charlie rose. "Come on, Dad. Let's go back to the hotel and get some sleep. Terry and David will stay with Donnie."

"But…" Alan knew that Charlie had a point, but that didn't make him want to tear himself away from his son's bedside any less.

Terry patted his shoulder gently. "Go ahead, Mr. Eppes. We'll be right here. I promise, and we'll call the _second_ something changes." When he still didn't look convinced, she repeated, "I promise!"

"I know you will." He finally nodded, "Come on, Charlie. Let's go before I change my mind." As he passed, he leaned down to Terry and whispered, "Take good care of him, Terry. He needs you now."

"Coming." Charlie studied his brother one last time, gave Terry and David a final grateful smile, and followed his father out, latching the door quietly behind them.

Terry sighed and sank into the chair Charlie had vacated. She gazed at Don's limp form. She'd never seen him so vulnerable. It made her heart tighten.

David rested a hand on her shoulder. "If it's okay with you, I'm going to go down the hall to get Chrissie's statements. You'll be okay?"

"Fine." She nodded. "Thanks, David."

"Any time." With that, he was gone.

The doctor in the corner had slipped on a pair of headphones, effectively drowning out the sound of their conversation. Terry couldn't tell whether the gesture was borne out of respect or irritation. From across the room, however, a familiar country song, slightly muffled but still recognizable, reached her ears. Rascal Flatt's "_Blessed the Broken Road_." She knew that one.

She tenderly reached out to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead. Seeing him like this brought out her protective side, she decided. She mouthed the words that floated to her, "Every long-lost dream led me to where you are/ Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars…"

The doctor peeled off the phones. "Am I bothering you, Miss?" He asked.

She smiled, but the smile was aimed at Don. She blinked furiously, battling the wave of fresh tears. "No, I'm just fine." The doctor shrugged and returned to his music.

She carefully…hesitantly…placed her hand over his, closing her fingers gently around his lukewarm digits.

She thought she felt his fingers close around hers, too, but she couldn't be sure, and when she looked back at his face, it showed no change. A memory, long buried but not forgotten, rose in her mind….

_She strolled contentedly, her arm looped lazily through his, "Where are we going, Don?" She asked, squinting through the blindfold that hindered her vision. He chucked, and the sound warmed her through. "And how come I can't see?" _

"_You'll find out. You're going to love it." He replied mysteriously. "Just relax and enjoy it, Terry."_

_Just as she opened her mouth to reply, a clap of thunder and the first fat drops of rain interrupted her enjoyable haze. She yelped as the first icy drops touched her exposed skin. "Don?"_

_He cursed, pulled her blindfold off, and grabbed her hand, "Hurry! It's going to rain!" He exclaimed, tugging on her hand._

_Unfortunately, she had opted to dress up…her tall heels impeded her progress and the rain had begun pouring. By the time they broke out of the park that Don had led her into, her maroon silk blouse was glued to her skin, her hair plastered to her head, and little rivers of water were running from the beading on her knee-length black skirt. As they stepped off the curb, she tripped, landing hard on her hands and knees. Don rushed back and scooped her up, carrying her as though she were no more than a child. He hurried to the first lighted public building he could see, struggled with the door, and burst inside, setting her down carefully. She laughed giddily. _

"_ALaundromat?" She asked around peals of laughter._

"_Well, it's not what I had planned." He looked so disappointed that she looped an arm through his again, squeezing it to reassure him._

"_Hey, Don, don't worry. It's alright." She released him and hopped up on a deserted dryer. The Laundromat was empty. No one does their laundry on a Saturday night, she supposed. _

"_I'm sorry it turned out this way. I bet you're still hungry. How's pizza sound?" He asked, pulling out his cell phone._

"_Perfect." She replied with a grin. When he'd ordered (pepperoni, her favorite), he hopped up beside her. For a few minutes, they shared a companionable silence. _

"_It's alright, you know." She finally broke it softly._

_He turned to her and watched as she unbuckled her shoes and let them fall—"Thud!" "Thud!"—to the concrete floor. "Sorry?" He asked, confused._

_Her task finished, she turned to him, crossing her legs Indian-style and arranging her skirt demurely over them. "This." She gestured to the room around them. "This is…nice, just is. No one to interrupt, nothing to bother us. I'm enjoying it."_

_He smiled sadly. "Yeah, I guess so, but…Terry, you're bleeding!"_

_She glanced down at her hands in shock. "I guess I am." Her palms must have been scraped when she fell. Long abrasions led from the heels of her hands to the base of her fingers, slowly oozing droplets of blood. _

"_Here." He caught her palms and held them up to the light, gently dabbing them with a tissue he'd pulled from his pocket. She gasped slightly when the rough tissue brushed her fiery palms. "I'm sorry…" He said softly, gently pressing away the blood. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, probably to apologize again, but the words died in his throat when their gazes met. He leaned forward at the same time she did and they met in the middle, a kiss as gentle and sought after as any she'd ever imagined. _

"That was my favorite date ever, you know. Ours, our first." She whispered, leaning down to him. "I know you weren't pleased with the outcome, Don, but…but I think that's the night I fell in love with you." The tears were flowing again, coursing down her cheeks to drip on his. "And I don't think I ever stopped."

In a movie, this would be when he opened his eyes, completely healed, and swept her off her feet to ride away into the sunset. _Yeah, right_. She snorted to herself. Only in the movies.

So, when she looked down a split second later and his eyes were open, she nearly tipped the chair over in her shock. By the time she'd righted herself and slowed her heart rate to somewhere between catastrophic and normal, the on-duty doctor had noticed the change in Don's level of consciousness and was at his side, busily taking his pulse and blood pressure and monitoring anything else he could find to do. As he held Don's wrist in his hand, taking his pulse, he glanced over at Terry with a smile that could be described only as flirtatious. "Are you okay? Had quite a scare, didn't you?"

She nodded, avoiding his eyes by studying her friend and colleague worriedly. Don's eyes were resting on her, and in his eyes, she could see a number of emotions. She leaned over to speak to him, "David is down the hall with Chrissie. She's fine. Charlie and your dad left about a half-hour ago to get some sleep. They were both a mess. Everyone's worried sick about you. My cell phone's been ringing like crazy; seems like everyone in the Bureau wants to know how you're doing."

He smiled faintly, then whispered, "Are you crying?"

In all the excitement, she'd forgotten her whispered confession, though she was relieved that he didn't seem to have heard any of it. She wiped the drying traces of tears from her cheeks, "Nah, not any more. Just overly tired. Don't worry about me." She wanted to run her fingers through his hair or kiss one of the unbruised patches of his cheeks, but she refrained.

The doctor straightened. "He should be fine now. I'm going to take him down to surgery in a few minutes. How are you doing, Agent?"

"Been better." Don said hoarsely, but a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He shifted slightly and was rewarded with a few thousand tiny pinpricks of pain playing tug-of-war with his back, arm, and sore shoulders. He winced slightly, but smiled bravely. "I'm gonna be fine. Call Charlie and Dad." He requested as one of the two doctors that had just entered the room began a morphine drip for him. In a few moments, he'd been loaded onto a stretcher and whisked out the door with one last comforting glance over his shoulder. When he was gone, she finally realized the irony of the situation…_him_ comforting _her _when he was the one that needed it. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed,

"Hey, Charlie." She said when he answered. "I've got some great news for you…"

"What is it?" He asked eagerly.

"He's awake. They took him down to surgery….they're going to repair his arm and set his ankle, check his concussion, but he's awake and should be back in an hour or two."

"That's great, Terry! Dad! Hey, DAD! We'll be right there. DAD, come on! Terry called; Don's awake! Hurry! Bye, Terry!" He said distractedly.

"Bye!" She chuckled, hanging up. She grinned to herself and set off down the hall to share her news with David and Chrissie.

TBC…

* * *

Okay, slight change made from what I'd previously had in mind. I had some bad news from one of my friends this week (hence chapter dedication), so I specifically put the Rascal Flatts reference in there for her to cheer her up some…it happens to be her favorite song. So that's where the whole confession/first date flashback thing came from. Ah, well, the mush. You know. Tends to jump out there.

This has actually been _shortened_. It was originally (just the _story, _mind you, not even all the author's notes and the review replies) close to 20 pages on Word, so I decided to cut it and save some of the stuff for later. This was a much more fluffy chapter than it was supposed to be. Next one, it takes a turn for the worse. :Scary music plays in background:

Review replies!

Belligerent-road-pylon:Laughs uproariously: Yes, I got the joke. He certainly does have a fabulous butt, doesn't he? Mmm….I'm glad you liked Chapter 4, because it was the DEVIL to write. Seriously. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, though it wasn't nearly as long as I made you wait last time. :Hides in shame.: Thanks for the review!

Nanz: Thanks! And sap is just great, isn't it? I love to write it.

Kimmilein: Hee hee…car rides are evil. Nope, no long-term effects except for some permanently-damaged brain waves from too many hours of Barney music…darn cousins. They'll be the death of me someday. I just know it. :Blushes: Awe, I'm so glad you liked it. The Game was by far the most difficult chapter to write. By the end I was ready to just chuck the whole thing. But it was worth it to see that you enjoyed it. :) Actually, I had a friend write the door riddle for me. I'm not too hot at that stuff...then I added Charlie's reactions to it and she helped me tweak it around. SO…thank her for all that good stuff. The Don and Charlie moments were my favorite part to write of that entire chapter. It was so fun to write. Wow, your reviews are just wonderful. You make ME want to cry! Don't worry, more angsty-filled stuff and eventually some fluff are on the horizon!

Chrissie8: Wow, you make me blush too! Thanks so much for your nice review!

Lour: I know that this wasn't really a "talk", but maybe you'll get some more of that stuff later….:whistles innocently: Hopefully this will tide you over for a while.

XxBandGeekxX: I'm so glad that you like it! Your review made me grin like crazy. Thanks!

Chibi Chongo: I'm glad I could make you happy. Having you read my story made me _very_ happy. I love to know that people like it!

Jill: Hey, that's my cousin's name! Just thought I'd burst out with a random moment there. I hope you didn't need too many tissues on this chapter. It got pretty sappy and angsty there for a while…I hope it wasn't _too _bad. Yeah, I know logic puzzles suck. You think solving them is bad, you should try _writing _them. I finally had to give up and make one of my super-smart friends do it for me. :) I'm a cheater! Hope you enjoyed this one as well.

Teyla Sheppard: Yup yup, shame on me again. :LOL: Just you wait until next chapter! Ha, you think _this_ cliffhanger is bad…Oops, did I just give something away again? Darnit, I am SO firing that muse! "Speed Demon" is what my mom calls me every time I drive, and for some reason it just fit David. Hee hee…don't David and Terry just seem like a big brother/little sister to you? (Actually, I have no idea which is older, but…you know!) Nothing happens to Chrissie? Well…:coughcough: Almost let something else slip there! Oh, no, hold on for the ride! We've only just begun.

strangexbutxtrue: Oh, I'm so glad you liked it. I fretted and fretted over that phone scene. Originally, I was going to have chrissie and Don in abandoned cars in a junkyard with a one-hour-to-find-them-before-they-blow-up drama deal (yeah, I like things blowing up…only in my stories though!), but I just didn't like it. Besides, this way worked much better with the phone call. :) I'm really glad it turned out OK. Thanks for all your help, and you're more than welcome to make suggestions any time! ;)

Mliss: Thanks for the encouragement, and don't you worry about that Don/Terry ending. It'll all be taken care of, one way or the other. :)

Okay, _next_ chapter, because it didn't make the cut due to circumstances beyond my control :coughdarnmusecough: More Don/Terry fluff, a very emotional reunion (heh heh…) and that stupid twist I've been trying to work back into my plot for AGES. Don't worry, it's on the way. Thank you all SO much again!


	7. Falling

I am so sorry for the stupidity of any of the formatting in this chapter. My computer continues to be stupid and ruin my life. :Sigh: 

Here we go. RL has been a huge problem lately, as has an LOTR series I've recently begun. Sorry again for my long delay. Hangs head in shame

**Disclaimer: **Thinks hard Nope, still don't own it. Curses.

**Dedication:** This chappie is dedicated to Chibi Ch**_i_**ngo, whose name I somehow managed to completely misspell in the last review replies. I'm sorry, hon…in my defense, it _was_ two-thirty in the morning when I wrote it…actually, I'm surprised that's the _only_ thing I managed to mess up. My deepest apologies. Hangs head in shame again,

**Chapter Six:**

Falling

The next time Don awoke, he was alone. It was a strange feeling, for some reason. He had had the feeling, even when he was unconscious, that there'd always been someone in the room with him. He gazed at the ceiling, computing the strange freedom.

"G'morning, Agent. How are you doing this morning?" Footsteps entered his room and a cheerful voice broke into his thoughts. For just a moment, he thought that the voice was Terry's. As soon as his foggy brain began to think, though, he realized that the face bending over his wasn't hers. Disappointment clouded his senses for a moment.

"Fine, Doctor." He replied when his brain could focus. "I'm doing fine. Do you know where my family is?"

"They were just here. Stepped out for just a moment at my insistence to get some breakfast. I'll have them paged now." She offered, bustling away to make the necessary call. When she returned, she began to hurry through her routine check up, running his vitals and adjusting the machinery he was hooked to. By the time two pairs of anxious footfalls began to sound in the corridor outside, she was finishing up. She drew back., "Fit as anything. I'll leave you for a while…let you talk to your family." That was all the explanation she would give.

In just a moment, Alan and Charlie burst into the room. They both rushed to his side, talking over one another, exclaiming over his condition, proclaiming their joy at seeing him awake. It was rare to see either of them in such an elevated state of excitement, especially Charlie. Don tried to separate the sounds of their words, but it didn't work. After a minute or two, he gave up and held up a hand for silence. "One at a time, one at a time!" He laughed; wincing at the pain it caused his bruised ribs.

He sat quietly as Charlie told the whole story, feeling as though it were nothing more…a story, something that had happened to someone else. He felt disconnected. When his brother finished, Don sighed deeply and reclined back into the pillows, exhausted from just hearing the details. Alan leaned over his oldest, laying a gentle, cool hand on his son's hot brow. "You're incredible, Don, you know that?"

His son groaned, "Dad…" He shifted his glance to his brother, "Charlie? Charlie, what's wrong?"

"Do you remember the time you fell out of the tree when I was eight?" he asked suddenly.

Used to these random changes in subject, yet wondering what that had to do with their discussion, Don nodded. "Of course."

"You told me in the ER that you were invincible. Nothing could get to you." He said softly, patting his brother's arm awkwardly. "I knew that you were just trying to comfort me. But, for some reason, I believed you. And even though I've grown up now, I think I've believed you all this time…. somehow, deep down inside, until…"

"Until I put myself in a position that even an invincible person couldn't get out of?" Don asked with an attempt at a teasing smile. Charlie's look told his brother plainly that he did _not_ think this was a good time for jokes. Don rolled his eyes. "Charlie, of course I'm not invincible. I try, though."

"I know you're not. I know. But a couple of days ago, when I found out it was _you_ I was fighting for…_you_ whose life was on the line—and Chrissie, of course—it finally sank in that losing you was a very real possibility. You weren't my invincible big brother anymore. And suddenly…" Charlie glanced away, unable to meet his brother's steady gaze.

"Ah, Charlie, don't worry about it. It worked out, didn't it?" He asked, hesitantly reaching over to clasp his brother's hand, which still lay on the covers by his shoulder. Closing his fingers around Charlie's sent tiny pricks of pain through his bruised knuckles, but he didn't let go. "I might as well be invincible when I've got some crazy math nut like you covering me. Seriously, though, I'm proud of you, buddy. Thanks."

Charlie turned a fantastic shade of red before stuttering out a "no problem" and letting his father take over the discussion. Alan beamed proudly at his boys before hooking his foot around the leg of a nearby chair and dragging it to his side. He sat with a heavy sigh. "I swear, you boys give me more gray hairs every year now than you did when you were children. And that's saying something." He told them.

Don chuckled as another nurse came in, bearing a huge bouquet of flowers from someone in the LA Bureau. "Well, when we were kids, you just had me to worry about. Charlie here was always in his room doing some smart-kid-genius thing. So, technically, you only had _half_ of the gray hairs then to worry about."

"Your brother gave me his fair share, too, you know." Alan said.

Don gave a weak laugh, then gave his younger brother's hand a light squeeze before releasing it. "Where did Terry and David go? I need to talk to them about the case…" He glanced around, as though they might come waltzing out of the shadows somewhere. Because of this, he missed the _Look _Alan and Charlie shared.

Alan answered, albeit hesitantly, "David is at the hotel, sleeping. Terry…went out for the evening. We thought it would be good for her to get out. Both of them have been doing nothing but work since you first woke."

His mind, already fuzzy with overbearing thoughts of this yet-to-be-solved case and the strange mixture of drugs he was on, struggled to compute what he was hearing. He didn't understand why his father had been so tentative telling him this. His friends deserved a chance to get out after a particularly stressful week of work. It wasn't until the blonde nurse made some obscure comment about what an adorable couple "they" made that he understood.

"Wait…she went out _with_ someone?" He asked, cursing his voice for becoming so shrill and desperate.

The nurse looked horrified, as if she'd blurted out something she shouldn't have said. She excused herself quickly and fairly fled the room. Don looked at his family, forcing himself to calm down. After all, it wasn't as if he and Terry were _dating_ or anything. "Who did she go with?"

"Andrew Templeton." Charlie finally confessed a moment later. Don sighed, but that was the most he could seem to muster. The elation of their small reunion seemed to have diminished severely with that one short name.

"How's Chrissie doing?" He finally asked, furious with himself for not thinking to ask before.

"She should be fine." Alan assured his son. "They're holding her for a few more days, but then they'll be taking her home." He seemed glad to be able to give his son a bit of good news.

"Great." Don leaned back against the pillows, finally allowing himself to relax. As upset as he found himself about Terry, he was really glad to hear that Chrissie was going to survive. During their shared captivity, he'd grown to care about the girl, and had promised her that he would do everything in his power to deliver her home safe. It was a promise that he had not made lightly.

"Sleep now, Donny. Charlie and I will be right here." Alan told his son, accurately reading the sudden drop in conversation. This sufficiently reassured Don and he nodded and settled back to sleep.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I think it would be better if he heard it from one of us." The voice was familiar, but through the haze of drug-induced sleep, Don couldn't place it.

But are you sure you don't want anyone else here? Maybe it would help you to break it…" That voice he recognized as his father's.

"Yes, I'm sure. He'd probably feel as though we were ganging up on him…too many people at once. I'll handle it. You two have been here for almost twelve hours straight. Go home and get some sleep."

"Hate to admit it, but that does sound good. I'm starving, too. What do you say to some pizza, Charlie?"

"That sounds fine, Dad." Charlie's voice was distant and choked up. Don wanted to open his eyes, to demand to know what was going on, but for some reason, he couldn't. He was too tired, too content in his dark world. He waited. "Are you sure you're going to be okay, Terry? Maybe you should come out with us, go get something to eat or something. You look terrible." Charlie finally added.

"I'm fine. You two go ahead. Really, I'll be fine." Her voice shook as she answered. "It's just been such a shock. So unexpected."

"Maybe we _should_ stay. Or we could call David. I really don't want to leave you here alone."

"I'm not alone…Don's here."

Alan's chuckle met his son's ears. "I love him, Terry, but I don't think he's much help right now."

There was a sad smile in her voice when she answered, "True. But I'll be fine. You go now; get some sleep, some pizza. I'll call you in a while, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Terry." Alan's voice was grateful. Then two pairs of feet headed for the door, and after a handful of hurried goodbyes, they were gone. A third pair of feet, clad in heels this time, clattered across the room and stopped beside his bed. With a rustle of fabric, he knew she'd sat down beside him.

After a few more minutes of relaxing in the silence of his peaceful world, Don forced his eyes open. "Hey, Terry. How was your date?"

She winced. "Don, I promise to explain it all later. But right now, I need to…I have to tell you something." Instantly, against her will, her eyes filled with tears.

"Terry, what's wrong? What happened? Are you okay? Did Templeton say something? Do something?" He hadn't realized he was rambling until Terry held up a slender hand to stop him.

"I'm fine, I promise. It isn't me." The tears spilled from her eyes, running down her cheeks in a steady stream. The sight shocked Don into silence. He realized that he'd never seen her cry before. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, smearing her once-perfect eye makeup. The tears left streaks of black down her pretty cheeks, and the sight broke Don's heart. "Oh, lord, Don, I don't know how to tell you this…"

Before he could think about what he was doing, he reached across and laid his good hand on her knee. "Just tell me. I promise, I can take it."

"Oh, God, Don." Never had he seen her so completely unnerved. His hand tightened on her knee. She gripped his left hand in her right, taking comfort in his presence. "Don, it's Chrissie. She…she had an allergic reaction to the drugs. She's in surgery. They don't think she's going to make it."

His heart stopped in his chest. "What!" He demanded severely, angrily. "What are you saying?"

She glanced up, her dark eyes full of sorrow. "Don, I am so sorry. No one saw this coming. It was so sudden…"

He pulled his hand away so fast that it made the bruises on his ribs stretch painfully. "Chrissie can't be dying. You're wrong, Terry." He wanted to say more, to tell her how wrong she was, but one look into her eyes told him that she was telling the truth, and that it was killing her to do so. He rolled his head away from her, aiming his eyes at the far wall to hide the onslaught of tears. One gentle hand cupped his, and a second turned his face back, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"I'm so sorry, Don. There isn't anything they could do. She went into cardiac arrest." Terry plowed ahead, making herself get everything out in the open while she still could. Later, back in the hotel in a bathtub full of hot water, she would allow her tears to fall freely.

"Why are you telling me this?" He hissed angrily.

"Because…because the reaction she had was to the drug the kidnapper gave you to knock you two out. They don't yet know what it is."

"He killed her." Don said softly as the realization hit, almost as though he were talking to himself.

She nodded, "He killed her." She repeated. She seemed to suddenly realize that she was still cupping his cheek in her hand and drew away quickly, adverting her eyes. He didn't seem to notice, though.

Terry laced her fingers together in her lap, gripped together so tightly that the knuckles were white. "Mr. and Mrs. Baxter would like to talk to you when you feel up to it, Don."

"Bring them in." He said quietly.

Her eyebrows rose, that shocked-yet-not-shocked look she seemed to use a lot around him. "Now?"

"Might as well get through it. It will only get more difficult if I wait. Trust me, I've learned that."

"Okay, then. I'll go get them. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I'm sure." He nodded. "And Terry? Will…will you stay here? While I talk to them?"

"Of course." She answered instantly. "I'll be back in just a second." She gave him a last encouraging smile and strode to the door, gone in a moment. On the other side, she latched the door and leaned against it, composing herself before sauntering off casually, head held high, to find the Baxters.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo

EEK! Finally, the plot twist is out. Whew! And I know everyone is going to _hate_ me for this, but it's necessary. I'm sorry! Flees REVIEW REPLIES!

Mliss- Don/Terry fluff was slightly overshadowed by the other stuff in this chapter, but it was there. Don't worry, there will be lots lots more later. Plot twist, plot twist…poor Chrissie. I'm afraid she was a marked woman from the start. Betcha didn't see that one coming, huh? Is quite proud of the shock factor Pretty mean of me, but it had to be done. Hides Don't worry, the sun will come out tomorrow! And don't you worry about the finishing issue. I'm a determined little daughter-of-a-monkey's-uncle. When I start something, I finish it. I promise. My updates might be sporadic, but they will come. Cross my heart. Thanks for all your encouragement. You make my day.

Jill- Ah, yes; tissues are our friends. And doggies and trash cans don't mix well, do they? I'm so glad you like it. Many more tissues will be necessary by the end. Oh, and the episode where the "first date" is mentioned is "Structural Corruption". Don's explanation goes something like this: "You know what my favorite date ever was? Pepperoni pizza in a Laundromat". Terry later reveals to Alan that the Laundromat date was hers and Don's first one. Huge grin Thanks for the sweet review.

XxBandGeekxX- Thank you. And don't worry, they'll get him…I think ;)

ollie-xox- Thank you…glad you like it. And they make a gorgeous couple, do they not? Swoon Ahhhhhhhh! Runs away from pet mongoose leave my toes alone, demon-rodent! AHHHHHHH!

Kimmilein- I know. Dinosaurs. Shakes head Who thinks this stuff up! Crackheads. I'm so glad you like the hospital scenes. As you can see from this whole chapter, I enjoy them as well. :-D I seriously hope you like this brothery-father stuff. There is a whole scene of just Don and Charlie next chapter… that one will be the real gut-turner. I hope you're right about the sketch...it will be very important. Blushes some more . You make me grin brainlessly. I always love your reviews. You're the best.

Teyla Sheppard- Don't worry: Charlie and Terry have a good brother/sister scene in Chapter 7. thanks for the date compliment…that was a fun scene to write! Thank you for the review. You rock.

Lour- And awake he shall stay! Yay! Thanks for the review!

Chibi Chingo- So so so sorry again, honey. Huge hugs Here's a chapter just for you to make up for it. Thank you for sticking with me so long…:)

Strangexbutxtrue- yes, I decided that blowing up cars, while enjoyable, is terribly overdone. That's why I decided to go with the riddle and the house. But alas! I have yet to blow anything up…cries That time will come…sooner or later. Promise. Evil laughter What did you think of my twist? Poor Chrissie…and poor Don, too! Hahahahahaha! I didn't even know about the shrugging conversation when I wrote this…I missed that episode. I must be telepathic or something. I'm special! Thanks for another great review. Your reviews are awesome.

Denaliyasha- Thanks for the review. Believe it or not, I actually did do some homework for this story. A new concept for me, believe me! Originally, the fact that it was Charlie in Pittsburgh was going to be vital to the story, but the plot has changed dramatically since then. I questioned a friend of mine in the police force whether this would be feasible in real life, and he informed me that if a certain specialist was required on a specific case, it was extremely plausible that he and his team would be transported, even across the country, to wherever the specialist's skills were needed—in this case, Charlie and Pittsburgh.

They say "pop" in Alaska, too? Awesomeness! I have been all over the continental US, and I was informed basically everywhere that this was a "Pennsylvanian" word and that nobody else says "pop"! I'm glad to hear I'm not alone! Thank you for your helpful questions and for your review and compliments.

detroitgirl- Thank you! Blushes again As for Don hearing Terry's confession…well, you'll just have to wait and find out!

Mliss- (again:) ) I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Hangs head in shame I've posted. You're an angel, Mliss. Thank you for your continued support and encouragement. What would I do without you? huge hugs


	8. Middle

A/N: Not too much to say about this one, except that it takes a slight turn for the more depressing and that, unfortunately, there's not much of Alan in it. Sorry, everyone, but in the interest of space and my sanity, something must be cut. He will make a few appearances, but he won't have a big role this time around…And I must apologize for the lack of quality these last few chapters. RL has really been getting to me…between my senior projects for school and my SATs and college applications and scholarship applications….ACK! (Bangs head furiously against wall) BUT! It's all over now! (Victorious music plays in background) My SAT scores came, my graduation projects are FINISHED, I've been accepted to college…ah, yes, the world is good. Better chapters are on the way, my friends. Now, if I could only stop getting written up in school….(glances around for help, finds none, and goes back to her writing)

**Disclaimer:** I started this story almost three months ago, and I own it just as much now as I did then…none.

**Dedication: I dedicate this chapter to both Jill and Teyla Sheppard, who both seemed to think I'd gone off my rocker last chapter with the date issue. Don't worry, 'tis resolved in this chapter. Love ya both! Heh heh!**

Chapter 7: Middle 

Terry strode purposefully down the hall, trying to ignore the sounds of Mrs. Baxter's sobs as the enormous woman followed her to Don's room. This part of her job—dealing with the grieving families and the heartbroken friends, consoling those that couldn't be comforted—she'd never get used to it.

Their arrival at Don's door, room 312, drew her instantly from her thoughts. They paused outside the door and Terry knocked, waiting until she heard Don's "it's open" to push on it. "Don, Mr. and Mrs. Baxter are here."

"Great, come on in."

She pulled the door all the way open, motioning he couple into the brightly lit room. Don had been propped up in bed with several pillows, and he looked better already. He extended a hand for Mark Baxter to shake. "I'm Special Agent Don Eppes. I'm the one in charge of your daughter's case."

"Of course, of course. I'm Mark Baxter." He shook Don's hand firmly. "And this is my wife, Donna."

"Pleasure to meet you." Don said formally, but the woman never stopped her ceaseless pacing…. door to bed, bed to door, and back again. The only acknowledgement she gave him was a slight nod of her head. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Terry broke it uncertainly.

"Please, Mrs. Baxter, have a seat." The young blond agent motioned to the overstuffed chair by Don's bed.

"No, thank you, I'll stand." The woman snapped, crossing her arms over her ample chest. Terry's eyes widened, but she gave no other sign of the surprise that hit her with Donna's words. Shrugging, she leaned back against the wall, crossing her legs at the ankle. It was a practiced casual stance, but Don could clearly see the terseness in her posture.

"What would you like to talk to me about?" Don asked a moment later.

"We'd like to know what happened to our daughter. Everything she told you, everything that happened while you were together. Anything you can give us would be most helpful." Mark was, without a doubt, much more calm and levelheaded than his wife, who was scowling at the agents as she continued her pacing.

Don closed his eyes, swallowing his frustration. He didn't feel ready to delve into those memories yet, but he should have known that this was coming. Dark eyes slowly slid back open, "You know that I can't reveal everything; some of it's classified."

"Tell us whatever you can, please, Agent Eppes."

How could he refuse? He shrugged, sighed deeply, and began his tale.

For over a quarter of an hour, the only sound in the small room was Don's deep voice, creating a word-woven spell that captured all who was listening. He told them everything, but was very careful about his choice of words. Donna, he reasoned, was_ quite_ upset enough.

He told them of waking up, bound and blindfolded, on the floor of an empty room. Chrissie's hands, carefully removing the blindfold and her gentle voice explaining that she had nothing with which to cut the zip cord. He told of the long wait, no explanation from his captor. The room they'd been held in, he mentioned, had no windows. Don's watch had been broken in the struggle and Chrissie hadn't been wearing one the day of her kidnapping, so there had been no way to tell the time. He declined to mention how close to insanity he had been becoming.

He paused for a moment then, trying to decide the best course of action. How was he going to tell the next part? How much was he allowed to reveal?

Carefully, he began to speak again. "The lights went out on us." He was talking fast, blurting out what he could while he could. "The door opened, and someone came into the room. He jumped me, I fought him off. Fighting in the dark with your hands tied behind your back is a good way to get broken bones…that's how one ankle got broken and the other sprained. Then he jumped _on_ me—that's probably how my ribs got cracked. I think I probably did a number on him as well; got a few good slams against the wall. He jabbed me with a needle. That's it."

"Thank you very much, Agent. You've helped immensely." Mark cut him off before Don could expand any farther. A glance at Donna let Don know why. Her meaty hands were clutched at her side and her several chins were set. Fire burned brightly in her intelligent green eyes, a fire born of sadness, loss, and a need for vengeance.

Terry decided that it was time to intervene. Don was looking a little worse for wear anyway. She unfolded herself to her full height and carefully slipped between the Baxters and Don's bedside. "We…we still don't know why the kidnapper targeted Chrissie as he did. Anything you can tell us would be most helpful."

Mark simply looked confused, but Donna reached into the enormous purple quilted bag she always carried and pulled out a long, flat book. "Here's a photo album…you can look at it if you want. Ask away."

Terry took the book with a small smile and leaned back to study it.

"How was your relationship with your daughter?" Don asked as Terry flipped through the book.

"It was excellent. We have nurtured her, helped her, taught her, befriended her, and took good care of her. We loved her and she loved us." Mark said, a sharp slice of defense seeping into his words.

"I know, I know. I'm just covering all aspects. Ruling you out, trying to find some leads. What about her relationship with her brother?"

"Oh, Johnnie. He loves his little sister so much. He worries about her all the time. It's as if he knows she feels different, and he won't allow her to be treated so. Chrissie used to ice skate, you know. Pairs. She was never excellent, but she was good enough. Last fall, she fell out of a lift and broke her ankle badly. She spent three weeks flat on her back at home on the couch, and Johnnie brought home all of her homework. He went to the high school, got her schedule, and got all of her assignments for her. He's a wonderful brother, our Johnnie."

Terry and Don exchanged a small smile. Terry closed the album and handed it back to the woman, "They're beautiful pictures. They give me a much clearer idea of who Chrissie is." She chose her words carefully, "But I noticed that there was a picture missing. Can you tell me about that?"

Donna's face contorted in thought. "There is?" She flipped through the book and stopped at the empty sleeve. "I didn't know. Mark, do you know what picture this was?"

Her husband shrugged, uncaring. "I think it was just another one of Chrissie's skating pictures. I don't know why you carry all of them around with you."

"So I can show them all off to everyone. I'm proud…proud of my baby." She choked up again, and Terry wordlessly handed her the pack of tissues with a consoling smile. When Donna felt she could speak again, she turned to the patient agent. "I think Mark is right. It was a picture of Chrissie skating…I wonder where it could have gone…?" She glanced around the room as if expecting to find it framed on the wall.

After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence and awkward chatter, a doctor provided a welcome interruption, "Mr. and Mrs. Baxter? I think you had better come with me." A solemn yet pretty young nurse with a clipboard resting on her right hip poked her head into the room.

Mark slid a comforting hand under her elbow, and they left without looking back. Terry debated about following them, but decided that some time to sit and talk to Don while she had the chance was too valuable to lose. She sank into the still-empty chair by his bed, "What do you think?"

"About what?" He asked without opening his eyes.

"All of it. Do you have any ideas?"

"Staying objective and theory-less is our best idea right now, I think…." He trailed off and his groggy eyes opened. Terry watched him lick his lips and a thought dawned on her.

"Are you thirsty?" She asked softly.

He struggled with his pride for only the briefest of moments. "Yes." He confessed.

Without hesitation, Terry crossed the room and filled a teal-and-pink decorated paper cup and brought it to him. His bruised hand closed around the drink and it was gone as fast as he could swallow it. Wordlessly, she reclaimed it and refilled it for him. The second glass went down slower than the first, and when Terry held out her hand in a silent question, Don shook his head. "I'm good now. Thank you, Terry." He handed her the cup, catching her fingers as she took it and squeezing them lightly. The motion made her heart flutter.

Don settled back with an exhausted sigh, and Terry, after throwing the cup with perfect aim into the trashcan, gave his uninjured arm a quick and friendly squeeze. "Sleep now, Don. Charlie should be here when you wake up. Take care."

"You too, Terry. See you." He mumbled through sleep-laden lips.

"Bye." Resisting the urge to touch him one more time, she moved to leave.

"Terry?" His voice stopped her cold in her tracks.

"Hm?" She answered.

"I'd give anything for a stick of gum right now." He announced. Terry turned to him, unsure if it was the drugs talking in this state, but he was smiling at her, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, which soon slid closed, letting him slip into a deep, restful sleep.

* * *

Terry decided that a cup of coffee would be just what she needed to relax her before tackling city traffic to drive home. As she and David had come in separate cars, she knew that this would not be a problem. In fact, she noticed as she fed quarters into the cappuccino machine, David's car was already gone.

She sank into one of the cheery plastic blue chairs along the wall and pressed the warm Styrofoam cup to her cheek, relishing the warmth it brought.

"Hey." The voice was timid, shy; she glanced up at it, meeting Charlie's nervous brown eyes.

"Hi." She motioned with her cup to the blue plastic chair beside her. "Have a seat."

He did, sinking into the chair with a nervous smile. He seemed to be trying to find something to say. She smiled encouragingly, "Are you headed up to see Don? He just fell asleep, I'm afraid. Sorry."

"Nah, Dad's already up there. That's uh…not what I'd wanted to ask you about."

Really?" She settled back. "What's up? Is it Chrissie? Have you heard about her lately?"

"She's still hanging on; still in surgery." Charlie said softly, shrugging. "I was just wondering…uh…how your date went."

She groaned and leaned her head back against the wall. "It didn't."

"Sorry?" Charlie blinked at her, confused.

"It was fine, for the most part."

Charlie remained confused. Her words seemed believable enough, but her tone and actions suggested otherwise. He chalked it up to another one of those many things he didn't understand about people. "Tell me about it." He suggested timidly.

"Ah, you don't want to listen to me rant." She smiled warmly at him.

"Yes, actually, I do. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I mean—"

"Charlie, it's okay. I really appreciate your wanting to listen." And with that, she began her story…

_Her dinner with Andrew had been wonderful enough. The restaurant had been beautiful, the Italian cuisine and the atmosphere of F. Tambellini's restaurant were amazing. It wasn't until he pulled to a stop, got out of the car, and personally escorted her inside that she began to question. By the time they reached the hallway outside her room, she was really beginning to get nervous. Outside her door, she fished through her small purse for the magnetic card key that would let her into her room. By the time she'd finally found it, she had decided what to do. She turned to him with a smile, "Thank you, Andrew. It was a wonderful night."_

"_Hey, no problem. My pleasure." He gave her a dazzling grin. _

"_We'll have to do this again before I head back to LA." She said softly, struggling with the lock._

_He gently took the key from her and opened the door for her. "Could I come in? Just for a second?" _

"_S—sure." She stuttered, holding the door open. He smiled and stepped through. _

_When she too had entered the room and closed the door behind her, she seated herself comfortably in one of the pink floral chairs. "Can I get you anything?"_

"_No, I'm fine, thanks. Terry, I had a great time tonight. Really, I did."_

"_I'm sensing a 'but' here." _

"_You're very perceptive." He said softly. "I enjoyed your company; I think you're a bright, beautiful woman. But, Terry, I don't think we should do this."_

"_See each other, you mean?" She asked._

"_Yes. Don't get me wrong; I think you're great. But, see, I'm still…still trying to get over someone. And—I'm going out on a limb here—I think you are too."_

_Her first instinct had been to deny it—but then again, he was being honest with her. "You're right." She heard herself blurt out._

"_I thought so." He rose to embrace her. "Then take care of yourself."_

"_You too."  
_

And that was it. Ten minutes after Andrew left, David poked his head into her room and asked her if she was ready to go back to the hospital.

"It was a nice night, but…we just…" Terry ran out of words and shrugged.

Charlie nodded. "I understand." Even though he wasn't sure he did, could see that the strain was getting to her…and it was the only thing he could think to say. He patted her arm awkwardly.

She rose. "You go ahead and see Don…I'm going to head back now. Call me if you need me. And Charlie—thank you. For everything."

"No…no problem." He stuttered, a little embarrassed. He gave her a final shy smile and ambled off down the corridor.

* * *

Don's eyes opened reluctantly. He'd been having the nicest dream…something about himself and Terry, but he couldn't remember exactly what it was.

"Don?" The voice was familiar, soft, and plaintive; there was nothing in the world that could keep him from answering that call.

"Hey, Buddy." He forced his eyelids apart, struggling to make his eyes focus. "How are you?"

"I'm alright." Charlie said softly, avoiding his brother's gaze. "How are _you_?"

He did a mental assessment of himself, "Better. What's up?"

"I have some news for you, Don…and you're not going to like it."

His heart sank. "Chrissie?"

"Yes…she died twenty minutes ago on the operating table. I'm so sorry, Don."

"No, Charlie, don't you dare apologize!" He said with such force that he immediately had to clasp a hand to his ribs. When his breath returned, he fixed his gaze on his brother again. "Don't. You did everything you could and then some. So…things didn't turn out quite the way we'd hoped. That wasn't _your_ fault. It was mine. You did your job."

"Don, I—"

"It's okay, Charlie." Don moved to catch his little brother's hand. For the first time since his kidnapping, he felt as though he wanted the contact. "I want you to know…how proud I am of you. And I know I don't say this enough but…I've had a lot of time over the last few days to think—think a _lot_—and there were times I thought I might never _get_ the chance to say this again—" He realized he was rambling, took a deep breath, and started over. "I want you to know how much I love you, Charlie. You're one of the most important people in my world, and it matters to me that you know that."

Charlie was gazing down at their intertwined hands, lost in thought. "I love you too, Don."

When Charlie's silence became too overbearing for Don to handle, he gently teased him, "Don't think so hard, Charlie. You might blow a fuse."

"Huh? Sorry. I was just…thinking."

"You do too much of that. What were you thinking about?"

"Something Terry said." Charlie said distractedly.

"Something Terry said? What did she say?"

"Oh…" Charlie realized that he'd let something slip and scrambled for an answer. Fortunately, a doctor bounding into the room saved him the trouble. She was young and spunky with curly red hair and dancing blue eyes.

"Afternoon, Agent Eppes. Dr. Eppes. I'm Doctor Kyrene Burkes. I need to speak with the agent, but you may stay, Doctor, if it's okay with your brother."

"It's fine with me…anything you've got to say, you can say in front of him." Don answered without hesitation.

"Sure." Dr. Burkes checked the clipboard resting on her hip, then took a tentative seat on the edge of his bed. "Well, I've got some good news and I've got some bad news. The _good_ news is that you'll be ready to go home in just a few days, as soon as your sprained ankle is strong enough to support you. The news is that you won't be ready for work for quite some time…at _least_ a month. Maybe two."

He growled his displeasure, but managed a genuine smile when Charlie gave him a questioning look. "That's great, Doctor."

"I need to know, for our records, will you be heading back to Los Angeles immediately, or will you be staying here for the duration of your investigation?"

"I—I don't know. I haven't received any instruction yet. Until I do, I'll be staying here, that's for sure." Determination crept into his voice. Charlie smiled; if he knew his brother, Don would be fighting to run this investigation from his bed in the hotel room.

"Okay, then." Dr. Burkes was making notes as she spoke. When her pencil finished scrawling, she stood. "Well, thank you, gentlemen. I'll let you be now." With that, she disappeared.

"How 'bout that?" Don asked proudly, settling back against the pillows. "Two days in the hospital, and they're talking about letting me out again. Are you proud or _what_?"

Charlie snickered. "Yes, Don. I am sufficiently impressed." He teased back, relieved to be able to joke with his brother again.

"Yeah, right." Don rolled his eyes. "Get out of here, you look _exhausted_. What time is it?"

"11:30" Charlie replied. "P.M."

"See? What did I tell you? Go home. I'm fine. Besides, Dad's here to watch me."

"Okay…" Charlie said uncertainly. "Bye, Don."

"G'night, Buddy. Take care of yourself, and don't worry about…about anything. I'll take care of it, okay?"

Charlie opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times, then seemed to give up and turn to go. At the doorway, however, he thought better of it. "Don…maybe you _shouldn't_ take care of it. There's a reason you have a team, you know. I'm going to call a cab; dad will be here." He left it that and, with a final smile, snapped off the light and shut the door.

He tried to fight the tears. He tried not to let it get to him. Christine Baxter was just another victim, after all. Another number; another statistic.

Except she wasn't. She was his friend. She had trusted him, relied on him, helped him, believed in him. He had done his best, and his best wasn't enough. Now there was nothing left for him to do. There was nothing he _could_ do.

But he could cry. He couldn't save her, and he would regret it forever. Alone in the tiny hospital room, he let the tears fill his eyes and spill down his bruised cheeks. He cried for himself. He cried out his anger and his pain. But mostly, he cried for Chrissie. And somehow, though he didn't know how, it helped. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the one he couldn't save.

* * *

THANK HEAVEN that's finished. Wow, another really, really long one. That should help to make up for the unfairly long wait. (hugs all her patient waiters and wonderful reviewers) You're all awesome.

Hey, I know that my little mini-author's note said by the end of the week, but I got the _Incredibles_ movie last night and for some reason, I got this burst of creative energy. I HIGHLY recommend this movie, too. It's _excellent_. I've watched it four times now.

REVIEW REPLIES:

Chibi Chingo: And see, I've updated again! Killing characters…would you believe that's the first one I've _ever_ killed? I've been writing since I was nine (this is my first "published" work, but I've written tons of stuff), and this is the very first time I've killed anyone…and it's in the works to happen again, though who that will be…I cannot say. (angelic smile).

Poet 2002: Glad you enjoyed it. Now, see, if I told you what was coming next, I'd _ruin_ it. You don't want that, do you? (angelic smile) Missouri, huh? That's one place I haven't spent much time in, so I have no trouble believing you. Now that several people have mentioned this, I'm thinking about going back and changing that, as it is obviously rather inaccurate. Thanks for the tip. Cute joke, by the way. ;)

Mliss: Ah, my #1 fan! (LOL) Great to hear from you again! I'm so glad I made you happy enough to dance. And no worries, there shouldn't be any more month-long absences, though RL and my LOTR series consume my time like no other. Sorry about the Chrissie twist, and I'm actually quite sorry she had to die. (Sigh) but I _did _have a reason…really. Oh, yes, much, much more to come on the Don and Terry end. 'Tis coming soon, I hope. I promise, it's going to be quite a ride. Thank you again for all your kind words and your encouragement. You're the best!

LotRseer3350: (Blushes) Awe, you're just _too_ sweet. You read the _whole_ mess in one day? I am truly impressed…and very flattered. Thank you for the tips on chapter 6…that was the one I wrote at 2:30 in the morning on my mom's old laptop, which has a habit for corrupting data…I truly appreciate the constructive criticism…it's _always_ welcomed and always taken to heart. I read your fic tonight, and I really enjoyed it. It was a bit short, that was the only thing I could find to critique. Of course, not _everybody_ chooses to yammer on and on and on as I do. Keep it up!

Jill: (Cowers) EEP! I took care of it! Problem rectified! Don't kill me or you won't ever get to see the kiss in chapter—oops! Almost gave that one away! ;) No problem with the trivia; always glad to help! Thanks for the review.

Teyla Sheppard: Hey! I LOVE LotR! I'm presently embarking on an Elladan and Elrohir series that I'm quite enjoying working on. Awe, thanks…I'm really glad you're enjoying it so much. What was I thinking? Uh, I don't do too much of that. Thinking isn't my forte… hee hee… I worked Templeton and Terry out. It's all good, and see, he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Oh, Don was _definitely_ jealous. He wants her. You can see it in his eyes. Ah, yes, poor Chrissie. I liked her, don't get me wrong. She just had to go. Sorry this took so long, I didn't mean for it to happen that way. (Hangs head) Anyway, thanks for your review, hon!

strangexbutxtrue: It's true; I really do enjoy your reviews. You always make me smile. I loved your idea, I really did, and it's coming in later chapters, but it couldn't be inserted too much here…for reasons that cannot be revealed. I did try to stick a little bit in with Chrissie's ice-skating and her brother bringing her books home, but…thanks for the idea. As always, I love to hear what you think and ideas to improve are always welcome.

BrokenSpirit20: YAY! (Hugs) I'm so glad to see you back! I wondered where you'd disappeared to. No, I'm not going to slap you, silly! (Checks computer cords nervously) Uh…don't be crawling through the wires now…it's not nice to suddenly explode out of other peoples' computers, you know. Minnesota says pop? I was in St. Paul for a wedding last summer and my cousins there made fun of me all _week_ for it, as did the waitress in the restaurant…although, down in Pittsburgh, they tend to also. Guess it depends on what part of the state you're from, doesn't it? Thanks for the help and the compliments. You rock!

Sokorra Lewis: Awe! (Blushes) Your _favorite_? Wow, that's a hard compliment to live up to…but I'll definitely take it! I hope you like this one as well as the rest. I live near Pittsburgh, too! (Squees) I don't think Baxter Circle is a real street in Pittsburgh…I made it up for my story, but if you find out there is one, let me know!

P.L. Wynter: You can definitely say that, because I never get tired of hearing it. (Grins crazily) Charlie's my favorite, and this story started out to be about him, but….somehow, the plot bunnies nabbed it and ran away. I really have to teach them not to chew holes in my ideas. Don angst is the best, though. Anyway, I'm thrilled to see a new reviewer. Hope to see you around. Glad you like it! Thanks for your review.

Arienis: Sorry, she's dead…I didn't really want to do it, but it's necessary. It is depressing…but it _will_ get better. I promise.

Stephanie: Here it is, and I'm so sorry for making you wait. I hope it's worth it. I'm so glad you like it! I always love to hear that people enjoy what I write…it's why I write. I love to write; but I also love when people like it. Does that make any sense? Anyway…don't worry about Don and Terry. It will all work out in the end. ;) Thanks for the review.

Alexiamanda: Well, I'm _very_ glad to see that no one hates me…_LOL_. Angst is good…so are plot twists. Cliffhangers are not, though, I'm afraid. But they tend to just pop up…(Sigh) Yeah, Chrissie was me—she looked nothing like me, but her personality…I was too lazy to make up an actual character. About the pop thing, as I told BrokenSpirit, I was made fun of all week in St. Paul for saying pop…guess I was in the wrong part of the state! Popopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopop! You're right, it _is _fun! Uh…two more deaths in the future…and they _are_ evil, but they're called for. You'll just have to trust me. Terry and Don rule, do they not? Especially together. Thanks for your review!

DraconisFlayre: Hey, thanks for the review! Here's the next part, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it.

Mliss/MissCongeniality: NUMB3RS got renewed! (Happy dance) When did this happen? I'm so happy I could just…yeah! Thanks for the warning about the name change, I would have been majorly confused.

THANKS AGAIN! SEE YOU MUCH SOONER THAN A MONTH! PROMISE!

TBC...


	9. Chinese and Photographs

Despite the devestating news that Sabrina Lloyd has left NUMB3RS, I am going to finish this story, and many, many more Don/Terry centric ones. (Sniffs)

**Disclaimer**: If I owned NUMB3RS, I'd be a lot richer than I am right now. Alas, I don't. Still.

**Dedication: **To my 100th reviewer, MissCongeniality, who is my #1 fan (as she tells me all the time. It makes me smile every time, girl!) and my co-sobber at the news. We'll cry together, MC. ;)

**Chapter 8:**

**Chinese and Photographs**

_Bang! Crash!_ A door slammed, keys were thrown down hard onto a table, and then a light snapped on. A second later, a strangled cry tore from Terry's throat and her hand went reflexively to her hip.

"What the _heck_, Don! I almost _shot_ you!" She yelped, lowering her weapon.

He grinned at her. "That glad to see me, are you?" He teased.

"Of course I'm glad to see you. I couldn't be happier. But what in God's _name_ are you doing in my room with the lights off?"

"What one usually does in bed with the lights off…sleeping. At least I was—until someone slammed a door and nearly gave me a heart attack."

She gave him an apologetic smile and sank down on the corner of his bed, "Sorry 'bout that."

"No problem." He pushed himself into a semi-reclined position with his good hand. He was still deathly pale, rings of darkness beneath his eyes and streaks of bruises across his handsome face, but he was out of the hospital. And, for that, she was grateful. Terry would take any good she could get in a case like this one. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever's got you so upset. You looked ready to rip into something when you came through that door."

"Not really. How did you get here?"

"Dad and Charlie brought me in about—" He consulted the phone on the bedside table next to his gun and pocket change. "Four hours ago. Where've you been all this time?"

She dodged the question artfully. "You _knew _you were getting discharged and you didn't _tell _me?"

"Well, I'd wanted to surprise you, though this scenario isn't quite what I'd had in mind."

"Well, you sure surprised me." She chuckled, then rose. "I'm going to take a very long bath, then we'll talk. Are you hungry?"

"Mmm…getting there." He said thoughtfully.

"How does a pizza sound?" She offered.

"You know, I never _did_ get my Chinese food…"

"Chinese it is." She grinned at him.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Terry sat cross-legged at the foot of Don's bed, flipping through the phone book, looking for all the world as if she did this every day. Her damp hair clung to her cheeks, which were still pink from the heat of her lavender-scented bubble bath. Clad in pink flannel pajama pants and a matching pink cotton tank top, she looked like a little girl all over again.

"Hello…yes, I'd like to place an order for delivery, please." Don was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of Terry's voice. "Yes, to the Holiday Inn on...yes, that's the one. One order of chicken-broccoli…white rice. And one of…" She glanced at Don, then went on, "sweet and sour chicken…fried rice." There was a slight smile in her voice as she spoke. "On my credit card, please." She rattled off the number, listened for a few more moments, then said, "Thank you" and hung up.

"I hope that was right. That's what you had last time." She told Don, avoiding his eyes.

"You remembered what food I ordered?" He was truly impressed.

"The little things stick in your mind during…something like that. They said fifteen to twenty minutes." She let the phone she'd been playing with fall to the bedcovers.

"Great, I'm _starving_. Wonder what Dad and Charlie are up to?" He mused aloud.

Terry rose and crossed the room, opening the dividing door between her room and theirs. "Your dad's watching TV and your brother's working on something…he's got his headphones on and there's paper everywhere. He's really into it."

"Is this supposed to be something new?"

She chuckled, waved to Alan (who had just noticed her presence), and closed the door again. "Guess not." She said as she made her way back to the bed and sat back down, tucking her long legs back under her. "So…about that night." She began, smiling sweetly, "You started to ask me something and you promised that you would finish it when you got back."

His dark eyes widened just slightly before taking on a carefully-conjured confused expression. "A question?" He repeated.

"Don…" She said warningly.

"Terry…" He met her gaze evenly. After only a couple of moments, however, he lowered his eyes. He'd had less trouble staring down cold-blooded serial killers.

Fortunately, she now seemed content to let the subject drop. Don was still trying to decide whether he felt relieved or disappointed when a knock came at the doorway ten minutes later. Terry signed the credit card slip, pressed a few dollars into the boy's hand, and closed the door. She handed Don the bag and began hunting for her pink ballet-style bedroom slippers. He caught himself wondering as she pulled them on—when had no-nonsense Terry become so attached to pink. He liked it, though; it was definitely her color.

"Don! Hey, Agent!" She snapped her fingers in an attempt to capture his attention. "Are you okay? If you're tired, we can put this away and eat later."

"No, I'm fine, I was just…thinking." He grinned at her. "What did you ask?"

"What do you want to drink? Coffee, soda, hot tea…anything out of a vending machine, I can get you."

He chuckled. "Coffee, I think. Decaf, black. Thanks, Terry."

"Hey, anytime. Be right back." She edged out the door and patted down the hall, returning in a few minutes with a Diet Coke in one hand and a Styrofoam cup of coffee in the other. She set Don's drink on the table beside him and crawled up onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard and taking a long deep breath.

He smiled at her as he wrestled with the lid of his Chinese food one-handedly. "Something on your mind?"

_Yeah, you. The fact that this is all I've been thinking about for ten years, sharing a bed with you, laughing and talking with you, being close to you…nope, there's nothing at all on my mind._ She thought viciously, stabbing a spear of broccoli with the plastic fork hard enough that the utensil snapped. She sighed and finally answered Don's question, "No, I'm good. Just tired."

"Well, I'll just call Dad in to help me move, then. I wasn't trying to take over your room, you know,"

"Don…"

I was just sleeping in here so that Dad could watch TV or whatever"

"Don!"

"And Charlie could work without worrying—"

"Don, shut up!" She finally said, laughing. "It's fine, I'm not ready to sleep yet. I was just answering your question, that's all."

"Oh. Okay, then." He dug into his Chinese food happily. "Wow, that tastes great." He commented.

She chuckled. "Glad to hear that, Don. I never knew you were so into Chinese food."

"Yeah, Charlie and I both really like it. I think we got it from our mother; it's not Dad's favorite—" The ring of his cell phone interrupted. Instead of asking his partner to hand it to him, he reached across her body, his fingers just barely brushing the cotton of her tank top, and got it himself. She was still reeling from this shock when she realized that he was talking, "Yes. No, I completely understand. Okay. Okay, thank you. Yes. No, that's fine. Yes. Yes. Okay. Thanks." He hung up and turned to her with a grin. "You'll never guess who that was."

"Hmm…I never was very good at guessing games." She answered, studying the broken tines of her fork.

"That was Miller. He's given me permission to stay on the case. I don't have to go back to LA!" He was clearly overjoyed by the prospect.

Terry's pretty face split into a grin. "Don, that's great!"

He laughed. "Isn't it just?"

"So what did you have to put on the line this time? Your soul?" She teased, referring to Miller's common habit of sentences beginning with, 'If you don't pull this off, Eppes, it'll be your—'

"Just my job." He said, suddenly grave.

"You're not serious." She said, shocked.

"I am. But I know we can pull this off, Terry."

"How long do we have?"

"Two weeks, tops." He popped another bite of chicken into his mouth. "Don't worry so much. We can handle this."

"You hope." She muttered.

"Are you _angry_ with me?" He asked, both surprised and hurt.

"No." She answered, though she wasn't sure if that was the truth. She sighed. "A little, maybe. I know how important this case is to you. Trust me on this. I know. But, Don…your job is your life. You can't just throw that away."

"It's important to me, Terry. Besides, if I lose my job, we won't be co-workers and we can date again."

Her eyes widened. Was she _that _obvious? Her cheeks flamed bright red behind the curtain of her hair as she ducked her head. Just as she was about to answer, her cell phone rang. She sighed and climbed off the bed to answer, "Agent Lake."

"Evening, Agent. This is Donna Baxter." The voice was composed and warm.

"Hello, Mrs. Baxter. What can I do for you?" Terry asked.

"You asked me to call if I had any news or if anything relevant came up. Well, I don't know if this is relevant, but…I remembered the picture that was in my album now. It was one of Johnnie and Chrissie, just after we brought Chrissie home from the hospital. It's so cute—Johnnie's leaning over her and she's grinning up at him, reaching up with one hand to touch the freckles on his nose—I wonder where it's gone? I know it was in there last week because I met Mary Brinkleton at the supermarket and—"

Terry had stopped listening and was rummaging frantically through her briefcase. Finally she located the source of her search—a well-done pencil drawing of a young boy bending over a chubby-faced, dark-eyed baby, who was reaching up to touch his face.

* * *

Yes, shorter this time, but I wanted to get this out before my crazy weekend arrives—It's prom time. Remember, to all of you who are having your proms soon—please please please remember not to drink and drive. It might not be your life you save, it could be someone else's. I nearly lost a cousin to a drunk driver. No one should have to deal with that.

(Clears throat) Yeah, enough of the commercial. REVIEW REPLY TIME!

Denaliyasha: Here it is, and never you worry about the Don and Terry thing. It will happen very very soon. I promise, and you'll never even see it coming. It'll blindside you like a Mack truck. (Angelic grin) Thanks for the review and your not-so-subtle nudges. Believe it or not, they help. :D

Sokorra Lewis: Yeah, I actually ended up kinda liking Templeton myself. He's not such a bad guy after all, even though he did try to come between Don and Terry. Never a good idea. And if you ever find out about a Baxter Circle in Pittsburgh, let me know, because that would just be really cool. Hee hee. Thanks for the review!

TheAnomally: I must take a moment and mention that I love your penname. That's really cool. The perp's out there, but not for long. Don't worry, he's going to get what's coming to him pretty soon. I promise. Thanks for the review, and stick around for the ride; it's going to get pretty bumpy.

MissCongeniality: No problem, I can totally understand about name issues. On a place like the internet, it's never easy, is it? Of course the Terry-dating-another-guy blew over. ;) I mean, really, can you SEE the woman with anyone but Don? I didn't think so. And the Don and Terry stuff is coming really soon, don't you worry. It's going to be very fun. (nods angelically) LONG LIVE NUMB3RS!

ollie-xox: Awe, thanks! (blushes) I'm glad you liked it. This one was kind of strange, but it will all make sense in the end. I hope. (crosses fingers) Is this enough unresolved-sexual-tension fluff for you? The good stuff is coming, I promise. And get that mongoose AWAY from me! He wants to eat me! (Screams like a little girl and runs away) The animals are attacking! Make it stop! They can't chew off my fingers, though. How will I type the next chapter? You'll have to wonder forever who killed Chrissie and if Don and Terry ever see the light…

Jill: You have a brother who looks like David Krumholtz! Can I meet him? (LOL) Kiss? Did I say kiss? (Looks around innocently) Yes, I think I did. It's coming, I promise. Maybe sooner than you think…;) Patience is a virtue, Jill, remember that. Hee hee. Oh, yeah, Don kisses Terry. You have my word. I'm afraid that things will get pretty OOC after that…(Sigh) the mush does it to me. Thanks about the congrats. I'm so relieved to be accepted. DON & TERRY 4EVER!

Teyla Sheppard: Well, happy belated birthday, first of all, and I hope it was a great one. I'm glad you liked your little birthday present! Never feel sorry about long reviews, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Suggestions are always welcome. And yup, I have Yahoo. My id is Authoress1813. Write sometime, I'd love that!

Crystal mac: Thanks for the review, and I'm really glad you like it!

Alexiamanda: Well, if I remind you of you, that can't be a bad thing, right. And there is more death coming, though I'm not going to disclose who or when or why—but I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. ;) I updated, I updated! And look, it wasn't even a whole month between them this time! (angel face) see? I'm a good girl, I am…aren't parents a pain? Mine kick me off all the time. It sucks!

MonkeySteph: I'm so glad you're enjoying it. People like you make my day. Don and Terry will end up together, I promise. Just wait…;)

Death-Dream666: I'm glad you like it, and I'm glad you think my characterizations are good. :) Thanks for the review, and stick around!

Arienis: Thanks, I'm so glad you liked the chapter. I really liked that Don and Charlie moment too…I thought it was one of the strong points of that chapter. Glad you're over Chrissie's death—you sure didn't take long to grieve. ;) Thanks for the review!

EclecticTrekker: Don't worry, I will finish this, I promise. It may take a while, but it will get done. Eventually. I'm glad you like it. I hope you'll enjoy the rest as much. Thanks for the many great compliments…you made my night. (blushes) Don't worry, there'll be enough sap to rot your teeth by the end of this story.

Stephanie: You read it all in one night? I'm impressed! There will be much much more Don angst to come, I promise, and it should be some very deep stuff. I'm glad you're enjoying it so much. Procrastination, Stephanie? Shame, shame…that's okay, writing this is my procrastination from my eleven-page report on JFK's assassination due tomorrow, so, you know…popopopop. Pop is a fun word, Stephanie. :D

CityGirl928: I'm so glad you love my story. I know there's not much number stuff, I leave that to the experts who know what they're talking about. I don't even try to pretend I do. The date scene was a friend's request, but it was so much fun to write. I'm thrilled that you like it so well. Here's an update—thanks for the great review!

Lola: Thanks, I'm glad you like it. Here's some more, and there's more on the way.

MissCongeniality: I KNOW! (bawls) She can't leave! But she has. It's been confirmed. (Sniff) WHY! I will finish this anyway, though, and I suppose I shall continue to write Don/Terry stuff. I'm sorry, but I just can't see him with anyone else. Can you see us, the loyal shippers, still promoting Don/Terry in the fourth season when all the new viewers are like, "Who's Terry?" It'll make me want to scream, I promise. (Sobs)

SD: I know it's been a while! I'm sorry! (ducks head in shame) Here's a new chapter, and I hope that it makes up a little bit for it.

* * *

That's it for me. I hope this chapter is as well-received as the previous ones. I have to run, the library is closing. Love to all—Sila 


	10. Back to the Beginning

And this is the shocker of the century—two updates in less than a _week_! It's a miracle! And now, I shall let you read.

**Disclaimer**: Nope. Don't own it. (Sigh)

**Dedication**: This is both a dedication and a warning. I'm dedicating this chapter of my story to Alisha, my best friend and confidante. This was a rough week for me, and through it all, she kept me smiling by "revising" my story, which I write during school in a spiral-bound notebook. During classes, she would take it away and change things here or there so that by the time I got it back, it was hardly recognizable...and I had to type it up through the mess and re-edit it back to what it was before. And, for some reason, bathroom humor is her favorite subject, so if the words "toilet" or "poo" come up where they shouldn't, you have only her to thank. I love you, Lisha!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**Back to the Beginning**

Within an hour, Terry's small hotel room was crammed with people. Don was propped up in bed, determined to run his unit. Terry sat beside him, freshly dressed in a crisp navy blue suit. Scattered around the room were various FBI personnel, police officers, and several other law-enforcement people that no one had really bothered to notice.

Don had just filled everyone in on Donna Baxter's news. "Terry, I want you to talk to everyone who might have had access to Mrs. Baxter's purse. Her husband, her son, her friends--anyone who would be interested in Chrissie or her family."

"Right." Terry said distractedly, her pencil moving over the pad in her lap.

"Thanks." He turned to David, who stood at his other side, "David, you take Charlie and a few officers and head to Mrs. Baxters. See if she or anyone in her family recognizes the sketch. That's going to be your area for the next couple of days. It's the only lead we have right now."

"Will do." David agreed.

"First thing in the morning." He nodded at David, then glanced down at the agent who stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed beneath her chest. "Would you folks run the family background checks--I haven't seen them yet, so would you please make sure I get a copy?"

The young woman, who had a long mane of fiery red hair and an attitude to match, nodded. She was Jess Smith, the agent in charge of Pittsburgh's FBI. "Our pleasure, Agent Eppes. We'll have it to you by morning." She promised, winding a red curl around her finger as she talked.

"Thank you. I'll see you then." Don shook the woman's hand, gave her a smile, and she and her team left. The few police officers and the rest filtered out soon after.

When the door closed behind the last one, Terry dropped her head to her hands with a sigh. "What a night."

"What a _week_." Alan corrected with a small chuckle, and the rest nodded their agreement.

"Get some sleep, everyone." Don offered after a few moments of silence. "There's really nothing else we can do for tonight. Good job."

Alan moved to his son's side, ready to help him move to the other room, but Terry stopped them. "No, stay here, Don. I'll sleep in the other bed."

"But--"

"It's fine, really. If you're uncomfortable, we can leave the dividing door open." She offered.

He studied her for a moment, then agreed. "Thanks, Terry."

"Anytime." She grinned, wished Alan, Charlie, and David a good night, and ducked into the bathroom to change back into her pajamas. By the time she emerged, Don was already asleep. She smiled at him, snapped off the light, and slipped between the sheets of the spare bed.

* * *

When Don awoke the next morning, the late-March sun was filling the large hotel room and Terry's bed was empty, the sheets and blankets tussled but her pajamas folded neatly on the pillow. A glance at the digital clock on his cell phone told him that it was just a few minutes before eleven. He sighed and flopped back onto his pillows. Why hadn't anyone woken him? He had so much to catch up on! Paperwork, evidence, reports...

He rolled over as far as his casted ankle would allow and was met with a folded sheet of hotel stationary. Curious, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and unfolded it—a short note written in Terry's recognizable scrawl.

_Don:_

_Good morning--I hope you slept well. I'm out interviewing the Baxters and their friends. David and Charlie are at the Baxters' then headed to the FBI here in town to pick up your reports. Call us when you wake up._

_Talk to you soon,_

_Me_

_P.S. Your dad went to run some errands--I guess he kind of forgot to pack a bag when he raced out here; he's been wearing the same clothes for three days. So he's out shopping; he said not to worry and insisted on going without an officer to watch out for him. He's stubborn that way. We'll call and check in on him every half hour or so. Take care!_

Irritation swelled in his chest. Terry had just left him to sleep? She, of all people--she knew the stakes of this case, and she was wasting time letting him sleep? Agitated, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash can by the door. He sighed again and decided to call for some breakfast. He might as well eat while he worked.

By the time he'd ordered, received, and eaten his pancakes, he was almost three-quarters of the way through the voluminous stack of paperwork, which Terry had thoughtfully left within his reach.

He scowled at the paper in his lap, downing the rest of his orange juice with the hand not occupied with a sling. It was a report of Chrissie Baxter's courses. It looked rather mundane, several freshman courses and some surprisingly advanced math classes, but at the bottom was one out-of-place class—Advanced Art with Professor Barton. He made a note to check up on that. Just as he reached for the next page in the stack, his door opened, admitting an exhausted-looking Terry.

"Hey, you're awake." She smiled at him. "Did you get my note? You didn't call."

"Neither did you." He pointed out coolly, turning back to his paperwork.

"I was letting you rest. You needed it." She said, surprised at his tone.

"I figured that." In his peripheral vision, he watched her chest heave in a silent sigh of frustration.

"Did you find anything?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Nothing of importance." He said shortly.

"Look, Don, I'm sorry you're upset, okay?"

"But you're not sorry you didn't wake me up." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, I'm not."

"Dammit, Terry!" He exploded. "You know how important this case is to me!"

She stood her ground, crossing her arms. "I do. But you can't keep the pace you were keeping before the kidnapping. You need to recuperate; you need to rest."

His jaw was set. "What does it matter to you if I--"

"It _matters,_ Don!" Her soft voice was rising. "It matters to your father, your brother, to _me!_"

_"Why?"_ He wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue, but he didn't stop.

"Because it does." She snarled.

"Now _there's _a good reason to make me lose my job. Because." He repeated, glaring at her.

"Why you are...what are you..." Any other woman would have either burst into tears or fled at this point--but Terry Lake wasn't any woman. Instead, she settled her hands on her hips and matched Don's glare. "Because I love—"

A knock at the door and a timid, "Excuse me?" stopped her. "I'm sorry, are we interrupting? We can come back later." Charlie's dark head poked through the door.

"No, no, Charlie, come on in. What did you find out?" Don waved him in, relieved at the interruption.

"Well, we went and talked to Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, both of them recognize the picture." Charlie sidled into the room and took a seat in the chair next to the door. "It was definitely the one from Mrs. Baxter's photo album." Here, David took up the story.

"And this. We went to talk to the brother next, but he wasn't home. The roommate said he hadn't heard from the guy in two days." The handsome dark-skinned agent pulled a thin notebook, emblazoned with the FBI crest, from his pocket. "He had this to say: 'Dude, I dunno know where he is. Probably out drunk or getting laid. Tell him when he gets home that he owes me f'ing rent money, okay?' End quote." David shrugged.

"Do you think he's involved in this? Or that he's been kidnapped as well? A family target?" Were it not for the pink flush in her cheeks, no one would have known of the argument they'd just been holding.

"I'd say kidnapped--I really don't think he's much the type to be involved in this type of thing."

"What makes you say that? It isn't really our kidnapper's MO to not make contact." David pointed out.

"Maybe something forced him to change it. Maybe--maybe Johnnie's already dead and there's no point in making contact." Don countered.

"Or maybe Johnnie's the kidnapper, and he flew." Terry suggested.

"Yeah, he almost seemed bright enough to pull off the kidnapping of a federal agent, not to mention the wiring of all those bombs and trailing all of us and--" Don prattled.

"Okay, point taken. Maybe he had help." Terry added.

"It's possible, but not probable." Charlie shrugged. "He would have had to have a _lot _of help."

"Yes, I see. So, for now, we're assuming a kidnapping, for Johnnie's safety." Don said, tracing the bedcovers with a thoughtful finger.

"Well, his roommate _could_ be right. He is in college, after all, and we're really going to look stupid if he's been out partying at his girlfriend's house all weekend and we raise the Amber alert." David raised an eyebrow.

"Until we have something definitive, we'll look, but we'll be cautious." Don instructed. "Good job, you two. Charlie, could you stick around for a minute? I need to talk to you. David and Terry, would you head over to FBI and tell them? Tell them...tell them to spend the afternoon checking this out and that if we hear nothing by five o'clock to raise the alert. We don't have time to lose if Johnnie really is in the hands of a kidnapper."

Terry and David both nodded and left quickly, latching the door behind them.

"What's up?" Charlie asked, folding his hands over his knees and surveying his brother carefully.

"First, the case. Anything new on the math end?"

"I've been working on some stuff...I have a few ideas, but nothing certain yet. I'll let you know."

"Appreciate that." Don studied his brother for a long moment. "How are you doing, Charlie?"

"I've been worse."

"You're not sleeping well." The tell-tale signs were all there--the slightly limp curls, the darker-than-normal eyes, the strange, nervous way he played with his hands. They were all the marks of a Charlie who wasn't getting his sleep.

"It's been hard." The younger Eppes brother confessed.

"Amita called for you today." Don said, trying to make Charlie feel better.

Dark eyes brightened immediately. "Really?"

"Yes. You really should take your cell phone with you wherever you go, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. How'd you know it was Amita?"

"It was on the display--you left your cell in my briefcase, for some strange reason. Have you asked her out yet?"

It took Charlie a moment to process the change in direction in the conversation, and then his cheeks went pink. "Not yet."

"Why not?" A small smile tugged at the corner of Don's lips.

"How come you haven't asked Terry out yet?" Charlie shot back, faster than Don would have thought possible for his little brother to retort.

Don's jaw dropped. "What!"

"Oh, come _on_, Don." Charlie rose and began to pace, threading his fingers through his dark curls.

"Is it that obvious?" His brother asked, dumbfounded.

"Only because I know you as well as I do. What are you waiting for?" Charlie asked quietly, returning to his seat.

"It's...complicated."

"What's complicated about it? It's simple, really. I'm sure she likes you, too."

"This isn't high school, Charlie!"

"What's that got to do with it?"

Don dragged a frustrated hand down his face. "Every day, we're out on the field...and anytime we're on the field, she could get hurt--even die. I already care about her...I can't even imagine what it would do to me if I let myself fall in love with her again and something like that happens." The thought made his heart turn, and he studied his hands to avoid Charlie's dark eyes.

"Don, you can't let that stop you." Charlie stood again. "Think about it. Please. You can't throw away a chance like this. Even _**I **_know that. 'Scuse me, I've got a phone call to make." He smiled at his brother as he retrieved his cell phone from Don's bedside table. The dividing door closed softly behind Charlie as he left, leaving Don alone with his thoughts.

* * *

By the time the March sky darkened that night, they'd had no leads on Johnnie's whereabouts. His apartment had been searched, revealing that no clothes or money had been taken. He was now declared an official missing person, and the twenty-eight-year-old's face was plastered all over every TV station in the state, and even a few in the surrounding states. The Amber Alert had been raised; his name, age, height, weight, hair color, and eye color scrolling across every traffic ticker in Western Pennsylvania. A hotline had been set up at the FBI headquarters and calls were pouring in from as far as NYC and Cleveland. David was there, jotting down every lead that seemed pertinent and calling it back to Don.

The dark-skinned agent thankfully accepted a coffee cup painted with cheerful blue balloons on a saucer of red-and-orange flowers from a young blonde attendant. Two creamers lay on the saucer, but no sugar was visible. He was hunting for some sugar packets when his cell phone rang. Though juggling the coffee, notepad, pen, and phone was no easy task, he managed to bring the phone to his ear. "Sinclair."

"David?" Static laced the signal, but Terry's voice was as strong and confident as ever.

"Hey, Terry. What can I do for you?"

"I'm on Second Street, outside Johnnie's apartment. His roommate just called. He was going through his closet and found out that--" Her soft voice was cut off by a loud crack—a gunshot—and then silence.

"Terry? Terry, _answer_ me!" He cursed, slapped the phone shut, and shouted over the din in the room, "We've got an agent in trouble!"

* * *

EEK…don't kill me! I'm sorry about this, but I haven't done a cliffhanger in a long, long, long time, and the reactions to this should be very fun. For me, anyway. (angel face)

REVIEW REPLIES!

EclecticTrekker: Hey, it's okay if you don't review all the time. If I know people are reading it, I shall continue to write. And, since people seem to be enjoying it, on it plods. I'm glad you trust me…and your trust shall be rewarded. I'm so glad you liked the last chapter, I know there were some inconsistencies, so I'm really glad it all came together to make it your favorite chapter. That made me smile. I'm still stunned to think that Terry won't be there next season. We need a support group. Don/Terry Obsessees Anonymous or something. It sucks. I'm so glad you have faith in me (and you totally rock yourself!). Prom was awesome—in a few days I'll have pictures up at my homepage if you're at all interested. Thanks for the fun review!

MissCongeniality: Thanks, I'm so glad you liked it. And I bet you're falling off your chair in shock right now…if not for the close-together updates then certainly for what I'm doing to our 'ship. Have faith, my friend. I will keep the flame burning! As I told ET, we're just going to have to form a support group or something. (Sniffles) I can't believe it. And wow, what a name. (Blinks) And I have a hard time spelling your name _now_. (Only because I'm such a sucky speller, lol!) The pink thing…I have no idea where it came from, but it's definitely here to stay. You'll see it popping up in several of the new stories I'm plotting. Next chapter is chalk-full of fluff, and you'll love me for it. (If Terry lives, that is…(angel face)) I hope the ending comes out as good as it seems to be coming, and I hope you like it. Awe, honey, you don't gab, I love your reviews. :) Keep writing them as long as you like, I'll always love to read them. When I saw that you were my 100, it made me grin. No surprise from my #1 fan! (hugs) Later, girl!

NUMB3RSchic: Hey, I've updated, and I'm really glad you like it. Keep reading, it'll get pretty good. I promise. Thanks for the review, hon!

Teyla Sheppard: TABBY! (huggles) Hey, honey! I'm so glad you like my story, and I really hope it stays as good as you think it is. One of the best! You're making me blush! (Seriously!) Hey, let me know as soon as you set a fic up, I'd love to read it. You hope he tells her he loves her and kisses her? _Well_…let's just say, if Terry lives through this, you just might get your wish. Heck, you might get the "I love you" even if she dies. Feel free to IM me anytime, I'd love that. We'll always have our D/T in stories, right. DON/TERRY FOREVER! Thanks again for your awesome review, I always love to hear from you!

ollie-xox: (Nervously) Good mongoose…nice mongoose…don't eat Kass's fingers, please…LOL! Yeah, what kind of a "good idea" kills ships just like that? I demand a…I don't know what I demand, but I demand _something_! I'm glad you're with us, we're forming a support group. It's just such depressing news. I've never had a 'ship die in the first season! (sniff) We'll have our Don/Terry relationship forever, no matter what those meanies try to do to us. LONG LIVE DON/TERRY SHIPPERS! All those little kids better stay out of our way! Don and Terry kissing…mmm…I've thought about it. ;) Just keep reading, I don't want to give _too_ much away. Long reviews are good. I love long reviews. Hey, I like your idea for CBS removing Terry…I could live with that. Thanks again, hon!

Jill: Uh…no kiss this chapter, either. (Ducks whatever Jill is threatening to throw at her) I heart you, Jill, don't kill me! EEP! Oh, man, I'd kill to meet your brother, LOL. DK is major hott, I'm telling you. Your brother's name is Pup? How cute. I love it. DON/TERRY RULES! KEEP THE SHIP ALIVE, PEOPLE! Thanks for the sweet review, and don't hurt me too much, Jill!

CityGirl928: Oh, ye of little faith. I'm glad you were awaiting my update, and here's a new one…and the next should be out within a week or so. I'm glad you think my chapter was interesting, it was a royal _pain_ to write. A gift for capturing a person's character? Awe, you're making me blush. I'm so glad it comes across so well. I'm writing, the next chapter is ½ way done! I promise! Thanks for your review, darlin', you make me smile.

Randa: Hee hee…that "well, if I lose my job…" line wasn't in the original chapter, but I couldn't resist. I could just _imagine_ the look on Terry's face. Doesn't it just make your heart flutter:D Glad you like it, and thanks for the review!

Lime: You got your point across, and it makes me really happy to see that you're enjoying it enough to want more. You made me laugh out loud in computer class…my teacher now thinks I've lost my mind. :D Thanks for the review, and I hope you don't kill me for this chapter. Bad cliffies! Bad!

SD: Thanks, I'm glad you like it. And, look, I wrote more! I hope you liked this one as well…though the end might not be so great…(cowers) thanks for the review!

MissCongeniality: Hey again, hon! Did the finale irk you as much as it did me? Good, I'm not alone. (Growls at TV screen) All around, it was a good episode, but I MISS OUR TERRY! I'm doing my best to keep D/T going. (Sighs) This is the second time in a year they've done this to me…last year it was the "firings" on CSI. I swear, they're trying to kill off all my ships at once so I have no more reason to watch my blasted TELEVISION! (Sobs) A change of heart would be awesome. I would love that woman forever if she came back to the show. And there better be DVDs coming. I'll treasure these episodes forever, so in season 6, when all the youngin's know nothing about Terry, I can take out my tapes/DVDs and show them. Educate them. TEACH THEM WHAT A REAL SHIP IS! GRRR! Okay, I'm cool now. I'm cool.

MC: I hope you don't mind me shortening your name, hon. ;) You're never a pain in my neck, I love to hear from you. Prom went wonderfully, and I'll probably have some pictures up on my site soon, if you're interested. I hope next year you and I are still chatting so you can tell me how _your_ prom went. Take care of yourself, girl!

Piccolo Chic: I'm so glad you love it. Wow, I can't believe you're sitting there reading the whole mess in one night. I'm really honored. I hope you like the rest of it as well as you liked that first part. School sure sucks, doesn't it? I'm glad you like it so well! Really…I love to hear stuff like that from people. Take care, hon, and thank you so much for the great review!

* * *

Wow, so many awesome reviews this time, I'm really flattered. Next chapter is ½ way done and as soon as I finish and revise it, I'll have it up, I promise. I know I left off at a really bad place…I just couldn't help it! (ducks rotten fruit and vegetables) I love you all, take good care of yourselves. I'm out! Sila 


	11. Changing the Rules

Yes, I know all of you are sitting there thinking, "Wow, holy long chapter! You need a life, girl!" But if you read through to the end, I promise that you'll think it was all totally worth it. /Nod nod/ Well, I hope anyway.Okay, then, read away!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, still, except for half the rights to Agent Kylie Jackson…the other half of her goes to my friend Tabby, whom I sat up with for half the night putting this girl together.

**Dedication: **To Tabby, because she helpedwith Kylie and helped me getthrough this crazily hard chapter. Thank you for all your help, all the late-night sob sessions (poor Kate!),you're completely insane,and I love you to bits! Besides, I'm sure half the reason we get along so well is because we're both nuts. :)

**Chapter 10: **

**Changing the Rules**

Within fifteen minutes, David and several other agents were in a parade of three police cars screaming toward Second Street. David was on his cell, trying to talk over the noise of the screaming sirens. "No, I need to speak to _Don _Eppes—no, Alan is his father. I need _Agent _Eppes. Yes, I _know _you have his cell phone number. So do I. He isn't answering it. No, I _don't _know why. Look, can you just put me through to his room! It'll be either room 112 or—yes, I know it's not your policy, but this is official business…FBI business." His dark eyes snapped as he argued with the receptionist on the other end of the line. "Okay, okay, fine, I'll just try his cell pho—_thank_ you!" As she put him on hold, he collapsed back against the seat. "Remind me to arrest her when we get back to the hotel."

"On what charges?" An officer in the front seat queried, wondering if the agent behind him could possibly be serious.

"Lack of intelligence. I don't know, I'll hunt something up." The phone suddenly connected.

"Hello? David?" It was Don's voice, and from the sound of it, he knew something was wrong.

"Don, I just got a call from Terry. She found something at the brother's house."

"What is it?"

"That's just it, her phone died out on her. I don't know what happened, but I think I heard shots. I'm worried about her."

"Where are you now?"

"With some Pittsburgh agents on our way to Second Street."

"Good. As soon as you find—"

The phone cut him off with a familiar sound—the beep of his call-waiting. "Hang on, Don, I've got a call. It could be her." He disconnected quickly, "Sinclair."

"David? David, it's me. I'm fine, don't worry." Terry's voice came over the line.

"Oh, thank God. Where are you?"

"I'm at the drugstore down the block from Johnnie's apartment."

"What happened!"

"Someone shot my cell phone out of my hand."

"My lord, are you okay?"

"My hand's bleeding, but I'll be fine. I think it might need some stitches. Someone just wanted to scare me."

"Someone with a heck of a shot. Are you sure--"

"I'm fine!" She cut him off with a laugh, but it sounded breathy and forced to him. "Just...come and get me, okay?"

"We're on our way--turning onto Second Street right now." He answered calmly.

"Thanks, David."

"No problem...stay on the phone, Terry."

"I can't. I'm out of change. You're almost here, anyway. I'll be waiting in the-" The phone cut her off, but David, in the screeching police car, had just pulled into the parking lot and he could see her through the storefront window. Her right hand was curled around the now-dead phone and her left was wrapped in her dove-grey fleece scarf.

He hopped out of the car and hurried inside, "Terry!"

"Hey." She turned, relieved. "I think I'm going to need a new phone." She dug around in the pocket of her jacket and produced the shards of her phone.

"Don't worry about it. Your cheek is bleeding, too." He pulled a tissue from his pocket and brushed at the two tiny crimson trails. "Let's get you to the hospital. You're going to need stitches."

"Call Don, will you?"

David suddenly remembered that he had left Don hanging on the other line of his cell phone. Swearing under his breath, he dialed Don's cell phone, placed a hand between his partner's shoulderblades, and began to guide her out the door. "Don, I've got her. She's fine." He said as soon as Don answered.

The older agent's voice was shaky. "Can I talk to her?"

"He wants to talk to you." David handed Terry the phone as he helped her into the car.

She took it awkwardly with her right hand, "Hey, Don."

"Terry, thank God you're alright. What happened?"

"Someone shot my phone out of my hand. I didn't get a visual."

"That's alright. Where are you heading now?"

"To the hospital, then back to the hotel. Should be no more than a couple of hours."

"Be careful, okay?"

"Always." She hung up the phone and handed it back to David. "Thanks."

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By the time they returned to the hotel two hours later, Terry's hand had been neatly stitched and her cheek glued closed. She'd been instructed to return the next morning for bandaging, which she was less than thrilled with. Don immediately caught her arm as she came near and drew her close, carefully inspecting her stitched hand, turning it over and over. Then he let out a shaky sigh of relief, finally convinced that she was okay.

"Don, I'm sorry. I swear, I was paying attention and I was being careful, I just--"

"Sh, Terry, it's okay. I know you were careful; you always are. Just...I'm glad you're alright."

She smiled at him. "I'm fine. Exhausted, but as capable as ever." He still hadn't released her hand, and she didn't even pretend to want him to.

"David, would you please see if you can catch my father and Charlie? I think they're down in the restaurant...Charlie isn't answering his phone. Again."

David nodded. "Back in a few, then." And, with that, he disappeared.

Don sank into the softness of the pillows, feeling his heart rate finally slowing back to normal.

"Are you okay?" Terry asked, concerned. "You look really pale."

"Fine. You really had me scared."

"I'm sorry." She sat down, never releasing his hand. "I got to a phone as quickly as I could."

"I know. Stop apologizing, Terry." His hand tightened gently around her.

Terry smiled. "Okay."

"Let me check your cheek."

"It's okay, Don. I'm fine, really."

"Terry..." He said warningly.

She sighed, blowing her bangs off her forehead in frustration. "Okay, okay." She leaned over, tucking strands of blonde behind her ear to expose the gash.

It was long and deep, but the hospital had promised, she explained, that the scarring would be minimal. Don's thumb gently caressed the cut, running tenderly over the shiny glue.

"It's really okay, Don. I promise." She said again, trying to pull away from his gentle touch.

His hand held her fast. "Hold still."

"I'm _okay_!"

"You're _stubborn_." His hand slid slowly around to settle across the back of her neck, pulling her gently toward him.

"Am not." She argued automatically.

"Are." His lips were just inches from hers.

"Okay, maybe I am." She breathed. His hand applied a hint more pressure, and she complied with his unspokend command, moving to close the distance between them

"Hey, anyone in there? Terry? I forgot my key, can you let us in?" David's voice, accompanied by a loud knock, made both of them jump and pull apart, only seconds from the kiss she'd been dying for.

Terry straightened, eys wide, breath fast. "S--sure, David." She called, avoiding Don's eyes. He caught her shirttail as she passed, and for just a second, their gazes met. Then she pulled away and hurried to answer the door.

"Thanks, Terry." David gave her a friendly grin. "Look who I found in the lobby. He waved somebody behind him through the door. "Don, Terry, this is Special Agent Kylie Jackson. She's going to be transferring to LA in a few months, so I thought she might like to get to know some of her soon-to-be coworkers."

"Sure, bring her in." Don waved her through the door.

The girl was tall and slim, beautiful. She carried herself with an inexpressive grace, but her posture showed just a hint of insecurity. She was dark-skinned, but lighter than David, with a ready smile and an innocent air. For some reason, she struck him as familiar. It took him a few minutes to place her--she bore a striking resemblance to Rachel Luttrell, an actress on several TV shows and movies his mother used to watch. She was undeniably gorgeous.

"Hey." She greeted them with a decidedly Pennsylvanian accent.

"Hey, Agent Jackson. I'm Don Eppes; these are my partners, Agent David Sinclair and Agent Theresa Lake--"

"Terry, please." The woman broke in, earning her a teasing grin from her boss, who was quite enjoying her discomfort.

"And this is our consultant, my brother Charlie, behind you; and my father, Alan."

The new girl nodded at each in turn with a friendly, sweet smile and then handed Don a single thin folder. "Jessie asked me to drop this off for her; it's all the information my department could find on Jonathan Baxter. It's not much, he had a pretty clean record. None of his credit cards have been used in the last seventy-two hours. The only useful thing we could find was that his bank account was emptied approximately eighteen hours before he disappeared."

"How much was in it?" Don asked, flipping absently through the pages.

"We're working on that." She shrugged. "Banks can be pretty touchy when it comes to giving out their customers' information."

"Tell me about it." He mumbled, recalling several instances when he'd dealt with his own batch of not-so-pleased bank tellers.

"Okay, then. Since you're under my care for now, Agent Jackson, why don't you take David and head down to the bank. I'll call and have a warrant for the information ready when you get there."

She nodded. David, for some unexplainable reason, looked less than thrilled as he followed her out.

Don looked through the folder for several more moments before he noticed his partner's strange quietness. "Hey, Terry. Are you okay? You're really quiet. I mean, you're not upset about what—"

"I'm fine." She interrupted him, blushing nervously. Quickly, she changed the subject, "You'll never guess who I saw today."

"Who?" He humored her.

She was smiling again. "Doctor Coursen."

"Really?" He couldn't understand her exuberance.

"Yeah, and guess what he gave me."

"What?"

"Here." She hurried into the other room and returned pushing a wheelchair. "I know it's not a great alternative to having your freedom, but it gives you the option of leaving this room."

"I'll take it." He said, grinning. "In celebration, I'm taking all of you out to dinner!"

"You go ahead, Donnie. We just ate." Alan said, glancing around for his youngest son. "I guess Charlie's working on his equations again. He must be in the other room."

"I already ate, too, Don. I appreciate it, though. I think I'm going to take care of some paperwork, okay?"

"Sure, sure, ruin the party, David. Terry, you up for dinner?"

"I'm all for it."

"Yeah! Hey, Dad, don't go yet. I need help changing...I'm not going to dinner in my pajamas."

"Sure, Don." Alan closed the door he'd just opened and hurrying back to shuffle through Don's suitcase. Terry excused herself as well, locking herself safely in the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, the pair was making its way to the lobby, where a small, nice little steakhouse had set up shop. Don talked excitedly; glad to be out of the small, cramped bedroom. Terry, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically quiet.

Once they were safely seated, Don leaned across the table. "What's wrong?"

"With me?" She trailed a finger absently around the rim of her wineglass. "Nothing, why?"

He gazed at her levelly, waiting.

Terry sighed and toyed with her napkin. "I don't really want to talk about it. I'm sorry I'm not very good company tonight."

"I can't think of anyone else I'd rather spend time with." He said honestly. When her head came up sharply, he locked their gazes together and held them. "Terry, about what happened upstairs earlier..."

_Oh, god, he's going to apologize. He's going to tell me that it was all a mistake and he hopes I know he didn't mean anything by it...I don't think I can take that. Please, God, please..._ She licked her lips nervously, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm sorry."

She let out a shaky breath, looking down at her plate. "I'm not." She said, knowing it was too quiet for him to hear.

"What, Terry?"

"I said I'm not sorry!" She exploded in a soft tirade. "I have waited for ten years for you to do something like that, and the first chance you get, you _apologize_!" She threw her napkin down on her plate. "What do you _want _from me, Don! An apology? A--"

"Terry! Terry, _stop_! That's _not_ what I was apologizing for." He leaned across the table to clasp her hand in his gently. "Will you let me talk now?"

"Yes." She said sheepishly, closing her fingers around his to prevent him from pulling away.

"Good. Now, as I was saying...I _am_ sorry, Terry. I'm sorry things are so awkward between us these days. I'm sorry I'm not better at expressing my feelings. I'm sorry I led you on so long. I'm sorry for a lot. But I'm not sorry for what almost happened upstairs. Okay? Is that fair enough?"

She nodded, releasing the breath she'd been holding. "That's fair."

"Good." He released her hand and sat back, a look of contentment on his face. "Hey, food's here."

The scrawny blonde waiter set small glass dishes of salad on the table before the pair, and Terry dug into it, glad to have something to do with her hands. She avoided his gaze until her plate was clean and then she took a roll from the basket in front of her, absently tearing pieces off and popping them into her mouth.

"Terry, would you relax? This is supposed to be _fun_, remember? A celebration."

She chuckled, but met his gaze. "You're right." She offered him a small, insecure smile.

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By eleven o'clock, the pair was making its way back upstairs. Terry had loosened up a little over dinner, and they had returned to an almost comfortable companionship. When they reached their rooms, all was silent. Terry leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Do you want me to wake your father so he can help you change?"

The feel of her lips so close to his ear sent shivers down his spine. "No, just help me onto the bed and hand me my pajamas, I can handle it."

"Are you sure?" She asked, skeptical. He gazed evenly at her, one eyebrow raised slightly to answer her question. "Okay." She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. She hauled him gently to his feet and settled him at the foot of his bed. Then she sifted through his suitcase and removed a pair of plaid pajama pants and a sleeveless tee shirt and dropped them in his lap. "Good luck" Was all she said before disappearing into the bathroom with her new pajamas—black flannel dotted with tiny pink hearts. She was determined not to freeze tonight.

"Are you okay?" She called softly through the wood, not wanting to barge in on him.

"I'm dressed, if that's what you mean." He responded quietly. She emerged, her clothes tucked under her arm. He was propped up and tucked into bed, dressed in his pajamas, his clothes folded neatly on the floor beside him. She smiled and shook her head.

"You never cease to amaze me."

"I should hope not. Come on, _Amityville Horror _is on."

"Are you serious? Don, it's eleven-fifteen and we have to get up in the morning."

"So? Come on, Terry, you have to live once in a while." He patted the spot to his left. With a shrug, she complied, climbing up from the foot of the bed to settle down beside him.

"I haven't ever seen this movie." She confessed as the opening credits flashed across the screen.

"You haven't?" His eyes widened. In the dim half-light of the TV screen, they were dark enough to pass for black.

"Nope, never." She settled back against the headboard, and he grinned at her.

"It's a great movie. It's old and the special effects kind of suck, but it's pretty creepy."

Half an hour later, she had to admit that he was right. Terry was a horror movie buff, but she preferred the kind of movies where the horror was…visible. The creepiness factor of an unseen haunt, she decided,intensified the terror.

Halfway through the movie, when the commercials came on, she rounded on him, smacking him gently with her pillow, "You moron. If I can't sleep tonight, I will make it my personal civic duty to make sure you don't, either."

"I thought horror movies didn't scare you." He teased, eyes dancing.

"They don't. Not normal ones. This is just…freaky."

"It's not that bad, Terry."

"Yes, it is!" She yelped quietly. "I hate sneaking-in-the-shadows-doing-creepy-things movies. It scares me."

"We can shut it off." He offered seriously.

"No, now I have to see how it ends." She mock-pouted.

He hesitantly slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Will this help?"

She snuggled down against him. "No, now I won't be able to concentrate." She muttered, but too softly for him to hear. She didn't want him to pull away.

"What was that?"

"I said yeah." She watched an ad for an online dating service flash onto the screen. A dark-haired muscley man had his arms around the waist of a tiny blonde, who was gazing up at him adoringly. "Do you think those things really work?"

"Online dating? Sure, if it's the right guy and girl. Me, I prefer to have someone to hold, but to each his own." He shrugged. "You?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm a hopeless romantic, but I've always thought…love is not something you can just create through letters and pictures. You need to feel it, to touch it. You have to see it in someone's eyes, to watch them express it through their actions and the subtle things. Computers can't do that."

"Hm…" He answered thoughtfully, his arm tightening slightly about her shoulders. "Very romantic."

"See, what did I tell you?" She lifted her head, which she had just settled to his shoulder, to search his face.

His arm tightened more around her, drawing her closer to him. She turned willingly. In the flickering light from the still-droning TV, she could see his eyes studying her. She offered him a small smile, saying what words couldn't. He leaned down, she stretched up.

Millimeters from her lips, he whispered, "No David to interrupt this time."

"Nope." She answered.

And then he kissed her.

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So there you have it. I bet you're all on cloud nine (you'd better be, that kiss scene was a pain in my rear to write…but, man, I loved it!) but I have just one more thing to say, and it's actually /gasp/ serious!

**I make it a point to never beg for reviews, though I love them and can never get enough of them. But now I'm asking for feedback, for both Tabby, who is both Kylie's co-creator and my friend, and myself. I would like to know as you get to know Kylie over the next few chapters (she's now a permanent addition to our library) what you all think of her. Just point out anything you think might need some improvement or what you like, just to let us help develop her character. I think you'll come to like her.**

Okay, on to the REVIEW REPLIES:

Denaliyasha: Oh yes, we evil authors are entitled to at least three cliffhangers per story, didn't you know that? So that leaves me with one left to go…. /angelic grin/ Don/Terry fluff is my specialty. There will be enough to stuff a pillow or 200 by the end. I promise. Thanks for the review, as always.

Liason4life: Of course I had to leave it there. :-D Cliffhangers are tons of fun when you're on the writing end of them. Bet Don's reaction was pretty predictable, but it was so much fun to write. There, I've updated, and more is on the way. Thanks for the great review.

SD: I'm really glad you like it, and I'm sorry this chapter was so much later than I'd wanted it to be. I scrapped it about halfway through and started over, and I like the end result much better. I'm glad you understand. Here's the next chapter, hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for all your reviews, hon!

MissCongeniality: Yes, and another one, aren't you proud of me? I'm glad you liked it…I almost left the whole "I love you" in there, but I decided that was too much for the UST at that point. Oh, dang, I didn't worry you? Very much faith you have in me, young Jedi. (Sorry, too much Star Wars lately…) You don't think I'd kill Terry? She is one of my favorites, so that makes her a prime target for killing, in my book. /innocent face/

MissCongeniality: Glad you found my home page…I'm having so much trouble with my computer that I can't post prom pictures yet, but they're coming. Sorry…small towns suck, do they not? I can't wait to get out of mine. I'm in PA. Cheerleading is a lot of fun, I really enjoyed it far more than I thought I would. I am free now, I'm done/Screams enthusiastically/ I'M FREE! FREE, I TELL YOU, FREE!

Jill: Don't beat your computer, Jill darling. It's not good for it. I have placed the kiss, no more violence to the computer or your dear authoress…she wouldn't appreciate that much. DON AND TERRY FOREVER! I have a brother, but he's nothing more than a pain in my butt. :-D No, I do love him, somewhere deep in my heart.

Piccolo Chic: I'm glad you love it, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're going to get at least one more cliffy by the end. I just can't help myself! Yeah, I was that way about Charlie/Amita for a while, but I got over it pretty quick—mainly just because he's so cute when she makes him nervous. /laughs/ Hey, thanks for the tip, I'm gonna do that. I love it! Thanks for the review, too.

Lime: Here's more…and Terry. I think you can put it together. Hee hee…I was really going to have her tell him she loved him, but I took it out because it was so much more dramatic. And I love drama. I've updated, and it's only been a week, so I did pretty good that time. :-D But I _love _cliffhangers, Lime. They're so fun to write. Thank you for the great review, and I hope you like this chapter as well as the last one.

Randa: A heart attack? Those aren't good. Hope you're okay, lol. :-D Does this make up for it? ;) Glad you're enjoying it. Thanks for the review!

Cora Clavia: Now _that's_ what I love to hear. I'm so glad you enjoyed it enough to actually sit and read the whole thing…I'm so flattered. Was this chapter what you had in mind (and don't worry, lots more kisses on the way, I just wanted to end it there and leave the rest up to your imagination…;) )? I hope you liked it. An A? That's better than I _ever_ did in school. :-D . Thanks for the great review, you really made my day.

ollie xox: hee hee…my turn. /Stands up/ Hi, I'm Kass, I have issues with the season finale and all the writers on CBS this season but I'm really glad they renewed the show. I write for therapy and I love it when people enjoy my stories. /Points to mongoose/ and I'm scared of him.

Anyway, glad you liked the chapter, hon. Thanks for the review, you made me laugh like crazy. (Maybe because I am….)

SD: I'm glad you liked it, and I'm sorry I left you hanging…I hope that this chapter makes up for it. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoyed it.

SD: I'm so glad you're enjoying it…it's okay that you write lots of reviews, I certainly don't mind! My mother thinks that they didn't give us any closure on Terry because they're going to keep her character and just replace Sabrina Lloyd…so there will be someone else playing Terry. I don't know how I feel about that…I guess I'll have to wait and see how it comes out. I like your idea, though…heh, _that _would be a bit of an uncomfortable moment for them! Your reviews can't be too long, I love them! Thanks again.

SD: As I said, I really love your idea. In fact, I dug out all my S1 tapes so I could look for Sniper Zero and memorize the end scene. I've already begun the story, but it's title-less…got any ideas? I'm so flattered that you think I'd be the perfect writer for it…you have no idea what that means to me. And never be sorry for long reviews, because I love them to bits. Really. I read them all several times as I write for encouragement. I'm so glad you like it!

KarateMom: I'm so thrilled that you liked it. As I told Cora Clavia up there /Points up to CC's review reply/ I just love to hear that my story's captivating enough to make someone want to sit and read the whole thing. And some of the chapters twice? That just makes me unbelievably excited. Don't worry, as long as I'm as addicted as I am to the show, I will always write Don and Terry fics, because they were my favorite pairing and they'll always be perfect for each other…I don't want to see him with anyone else. Don't apologize for being loyal and devoted! I like you all the more for it! Come join our support group, 'tis growing daily. We're all crazy, but we're fun anyway. :) I am _so_ glad you're enjoying it so much, and I'm really glad everyone liked the last chapter so well, because I was really nervous about it. I hope this one comes across well, too. Thank you so much for your great review, you made me grin all day long every time I thought about it. :D (Wow, your reply was really long! Heehee…)

EclecticTrekkerHey, thanks! Wow /Admires all her great gifts/ Hm…I've never had pudding skin singles, but hey, if it's chocolate, I'll take it. I'm glad you liked that "Why don't you ask Terry out!" line, I just couldn't resist it. I could just _see_ the look on Charlie's face as he said it.

Yay, another person for the support group! We need jackets or something. I know, the finale…don't even get me started on that. Between that and the NCIS finale this year, I feel as though CBS is on a personal vendetta to kill all my ships. /Pouts/ But thanks for the awesome review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last one.

CityGirl928: We're all interesting in our own way, right:D Thanks, I'm glad you liked the tension last chapter…this chapter was really tension-full-ish. I didn't mean it that way, it's just how it happened. I love to do that interrupting to my characters, although I'm sure _they're _not too pleased about it…./innocent whistling/ But I finally got a tender moment in with no interruptions /parties/ You make me smile every time you review, girl, because if what you write isn't supposed to be funny, it's sweet enough to keep me grinning all day. I love your reviews, and thanks so much for your support!

reannablue: I'm glad you like it. Here's some more, I hope you like it as well as the rest! Thanks for the review!

SD: Hey, I like reviews, I'm not going to complain! Here's the next chapter, I hope it was worth the wait.

MissCongeniality: Hey, girl. I'm sorry you're depressed. I thought American Idol was kind of sucky this time…and I've been depressed all week about the events of NCIS, so we've been on pretty much the same boat. Hope this chapter helps to brighten your day a little bit and thanks for the wishes on graduation…just 14 days left!

charliemyhero: I'm so glad you like it…suspense can be fun, and at least this time I didn't make you wait a month for an update! (I've done that before…/hangs head in shame/) Thanks for the great review, I hope you liked this chapter as well.

Thanks, everyone, for all the wonderful reviews. Take care, and until next time.../superhero voice/ behave and stay safe!  
Sila


	12. Ups and Downs

I've spent _far_ too much time this week watching NUMB3RS. In retrospect, today's quote is as follows: "Children are wormholes." Larry, _Sniper Zero_. That scene never fails to crack me up.

**Disclaimer**: If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times: I don't own the show. I don't own the characters. I don't even know if I completely own the plotline. /Shrugs/

**Dedication**: I dedicate this chapter to the end of school. /Raises glass/ I'd like to propose a toast. To long summer days, to lots of Don/Terry fluff, and to Ollie's mongoose, though I don't quite know why.

** Chapter 11**

**Ups and Downs**

"Well, would you look at that." Why was someone talking? She knew she was dreaming, she had to be. But in her dream, it was only she and Don; curled up together in a soft, warm bed, caught in each other's embrace, the March sun warming the room to a comfortable temperature. David wasn't in her dream, but his voice was, and she was very annoyed with it.

"Never thought I'd see the day." What, now _Charlie_ was here, too? Next thing she knew, she'd be hearing her mother's voice all the way from Miami. Why couldn't they just leave her alone and let her dream? She'd like to hold onto this moment for as long as she could, thankyouverymuch.

"Shh, she's waking up."

With a small gasp, her eyes snapped open. She was in Don's bed, curled up against his chest, one arm wrapped loosely around his ribs. He was still fast asleep, a small smile on his lips and his left arm settled protectively about her waist.

"Morning, beautiful. Having a good time?" David's voice, now certainly not in her dream, was soft but carrying. She buried her face in Don's chest, trying to hide her flaming cheeks.

"Ah, shut up, Sinclair." Don's tone was cheerful, teasing, and fully awake; he obviously wasn't as asleep as she'd thought, because he suddenly pulled her close to him and planted a quick kiss on her lips without ever opening his eyes.

Charlie laughed and turned to his companion. "Think we should come back?"

David smirked, "I don't know; I think they might want to see this. But if they're busy…"

"No, no." Don extracted himself from his partner and forced himself to prop up on his elbow, "What's up?"

"I finished what I've been working on." Charlie offered proudly.

"Really? What've you been working on?"

"Mapping out the likeliness of the reported sightings of Johnnie." The map that Charlie had been using for the past week was rolled up and tucked under his arm. Now he tacked it to the wall, proudly displaying the map's apparently new red, blue, green, and yellow acne problem.

"Red dots are confirmed and certain sightings." Charlie pointed out the four red dots that marked security cameras that had recorded Johnnie's car. So far, however, the film had provided very little in the way of identification…No one had gotten into or out of the car at any of the locations. All they had to go on was the license plates that had been caught on tape. "Blue are the highly likely ones…based on location and number of reported sightings." There were nine or ten of these dots. "Green are the less likely ones, and yellow are the sightings that have less than a 5 chance of being accurate."

Terry, who had climbed from the bed when Don sat up and was now trying to pull her hair back one-handed, moved closer to the map. "Last night, Johnnie's roommate gave me Johnnie's cell phone—said he'd found it in the couch cushions. There were over twenty missed calls on it. Several were from his parents, of course, a couple from us, and a few from friends. The only thing I could find of any real interest was an unknown call from a payphone along the Ohio turnpike." She pointed to the sliver of Ohio that was visible on Charlie's map

"Hm…" Don studied the map from the foot of his bed. "Do those dots look like anything to you?"

Charlie nodded. "It's a line. Johnnie and his kidnapper are moving west."

"Can you tell us where he should be going next?"

"Give me a little while, but I ought to—"

"Food!" Alan announced cheerfully, bursting through the door with two bags, one with two boxes of doughnuts inside and one with two bottles of orange juice.

"Doughnuts, Dad?" Don chuckled, but gratefully took the chocolate-iced doughnut Terry held out to him.

"Figured you kids could use the extra energy." He shrugged.

"Well, thanks, Mr. Eppes." Terry smiled at him.

"Any time." He bit into a cream filled pastry.

Charlie was busy already on the probability of the route Johnnie's kidnapper might take. Alan set a napkin with a doughnut on top down beside his youngest son and caught his arm. "Charlie, make sure you eat something, okay?"

The mathematician nodded distractedly. "I will."

Alan sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the rest of the room. "How are you coming with the case?"

"Slowly." Don sighed. "Too slowly."

His father patted the young agent's shoulder. "I know you can do it, don't worry."

Don smiled gratefully, but before he could answer, his cell phone rang. "Eppes." He answered.

"Agent, this is Kylie Jackson. We just got a call from Alexei Trent. She told us that today is Chrissie's funeral, and that it would mean a lot to Mr. and Mrs. Baxter if your team was there."

"When?"

"At noon."

"We'll be there." He promised. "Would you like to join us?"

"Sure, if it's okay with my superior. I'll meet you there if it is."

"Sounds great, I'll see you then. Thank you, Agent Jackson."

"You're welcome, Agent. Have a nice day."

"You too." And with that, he hung up. "That was Agent Jackson. Today is Chrissie's funeral. They want us to be there."

"That's okay with you?" David offered gently.

"I want to go. Alexei Trent said that the Baxters would really appreciate _all_ of us coming." He said meaningfully, glancing from one to the other.

"I'm in." Terry and David said at the same time.

"I'll go too." Charlie said.

Alan shrugged. "I didn't ever really get to meet her, but I'm coming too."

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Terry followed Alan—pushing Don's chair—through the door. She hadn't packed anything black in her luggage, so she was wearing a navy blue skirt and blazer over an ivory-colored silk blouse, and she was feeling strangely out-of-place. The chapel was small and tastefully decorated with iridescent bows and blue-tipped white carnations. The casket, open for now, sat at the front. It was polished mahogany wood with gleaming brass handles lined with a soft powder-blue silk lining, and there was something about it that was so beautiful and serene that it stopped her heart. Next to it sat an easel with a gold-framed senior photograph of Chrissie, stretched casually out on a white-draped table with her arms latched around an unhappy-looking fat black-and-white cat.

But while her brown eyes darkened with tears and her chin began to tremble, Terry squared her shoulders firmly and followed Alan and Don to the front, where Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, who both looked as though they hadn't slept at all in the last week, were standing at the head of a receiving line.

Alan pushed Don through first and introduced himself. When Terry reached Donna Baxter, the woman pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. "Hello, honey. I'm so glad you all came." She whispered into the uncomfortable agent's hair. "My word, what happened to your cheek and hand?" She asked, then, without waiting for an answer, "Any news on my Johnnie?"

Terry hadn't the heart to tell her their suspicions of another kidnapping. "Nothing definitive," She said, extracting herself from the woman's grasp, "But I'll let you know as soon as I can."

"Thank you, darling." With that, Donna ushered the young blonde agent through.

When Terry reached the casket, her heart stopped again. The girl in the box was too young. It always felt like this when a victim died, of course, she just usually didn't have to actually _deal_ with it. Usually, there wasn't a funeral she had to attend. Still, she kept her emotions in check and studied the petite redhead. Chrissie's eyes were closed, a small smile danced on her lips. Her nails had been painted a soft baby blue to match the pin-striped dress shirt she wore, and a bouquet of small white roses flowers were pinned beneath her resting hands. A black-covered Bible lay in the crook of her left arm. She looked peaceful and content, and Terry felt a prayer lift in her heart…_God, please take good care of her…she needs it now. She deserves to be happy_.

A gentle nudge from behind told Terry that she'd been holding up the line for long enough. With a last glance at the girl inside the coffin, she allowed David to gently lead her back to their pew, Agent Jackson at their heels.

The church was filled to standing-room-only before the service had even begun. When the preacher took the pulpit and began to speak, several girls in the front row broke down and began to cry softly. It was like a scene from a movie, surreal and dream-like. Terry found herself both hating and loving it. The organist, a hunched-over old woman with a nose that looked like a hawk's beak and a gaudy black dress printed with orange and hot pink hibiscus flowers, had a gift for music, and Terry couldn't remember anything quite as touching as the hymns the eccentric woman was playing. A pretty, very young girl introduced herself as Chrissie's cousin and sang a sweet rendition of "Amazing Grace" with a child-like innocence that broke her heart.

By the end of the service, emotion was making the preacher's voice jagged and even David's eyes were cloudy with tears by the time the last strains of the final hymn, "Nearer My God To Thee", faded away into nothingness. Terry wrapped her arms around herself and avoided looking at Don, afraid that seeing his expression would make her lose it for good.

Four men, none of them recognizable to the FBI crew in the second-to-last row, took the handles of the casket, Donna flipped the lid closed and latched it, and the party began to file out the door. They waited until everyone else had left the building before leaving their seats in silence and making their way to the lonely cars parked in the small chapel lot.

Just as the small party reached their vehicles, an upbeat tune interrupted their brooding silence. Kylie blushed furiously, angry with herself for not remembering to shut her phone off and grateful that it hadn't rung during the service. She flipped it open, "This is Kylie."

She listened for a few moments, and then her eyes darkened. "Okay, I'll tell him. Thanks, Jess." She flipped the phone closed and turned back to them. "Highway patrol in Ohio just called in an unidentified body. Says he pulled it from a lake. He thinks it matches Johnnie's description."

Don cursed under his breath, then tipped his head back with a sigh. "Wonderful. Well, I can tell you where we're going this afternoon."

"Taken care of. They've already flown the body by chopper to the morgue…forensics is already running some tests. If the blood has a sibling's match to Chrissie's, we'll panic. Until then…"

"Until then, we do the best we can. Charlie, waht are you thinking?"

Charlie's eyes had closed and he was leaning back against the Tahoe with a thoughtful look. "Did Agent Smith tell you _exactly_ where the body was found, Agent Jackson?"

"Please, call me Kylie. She said…at a rest stop along the turnpike, in a pond."

He chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip, his mind scrambling with numbers, equations, and variables. "It would fit." He said finally, a hint of dejection seeping into the words. "But I've been wrong before, it might not be him…"

"It's okay, Charlie." Don assured his brother. "We don't know anything yet, we have to wait for the DNA to come in. This isn't a TV show, these things take time." He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

"Right. For now…" David shrugged.

"We head back to the hotel and keep plugging away. We're missing something, I know it, I just don't know what it is." The frustration in Don's voice was obvious.

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It was nearly eleven-thirty that night before the phone call came in. Don and his team were sitting in their hotel room, pouring over the files once again, hoping to come across anything they might have missed that would give them answers.

"Yeah?" Kylie answered her phone as it beeped cheerily. "Wow, that was fast, Jess…yeah, I'm sure Agent Eppes will appreciate that. Really? _Really?_ That's great! That's great news. Okay, thanks, Jessie. I will. Bye." She hung up and whirled around, a dazzling smile on her face. "DNA just came back. No matches. It's not Johnnie."

A grin split Don's tired face. "That's great. Telling Mr. and Mrs. Baxter that we had found their dead son was one conversation I was _not_ looking forward to."

The chocolate-skinned agent chuckled. "I bet not." She said, leaning back in her chair so that it balanced on two legs.

"The bad thing is, we're back to square one. And, even with Charlie's help, if our kidnapper gets to an airport with Johnnie, he's long gone. They've already been gone three days."

"So we're back to the drawing board." David mumbled, watching amusedly as Kylie tipped farther and farther back in her chair._ If she keeps that up, she's going to end up on the floor_. He mused. The idea in itself was a hilarious one.

"There's nothing to do about it tonight." Don sighed, his eyes following Kylie's progress as she tipped impossibly far backwards, but somehow managed to right the chair before crashing to the floor. She was definitely her own character. "Kylie, we could use your help tomorrow. Could you be here about eight?"

"Sure." She set the chair back on the floor and stood, gathering together her work and taking up a pen. She took Don's hand and wrote a series of numbers on the back. "Here, this is my cell number. Call me if you need anything at anytime, okay?" She was serious now, her dark eyes studying him.

He nodded and granted her a genuine smile. "Thank you, Kylie. I can tell that you're going to be a valuable asset to our team."

She beamed, "Thank you, Agent Eppes."

"You can call me Don. Now get home before you fall asleep standing up."

With a final wave in their direction, she disappeared, closing the door behind her with a slight snap. David scowled at the pink-painted door for several moments before standing up. "I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late, Don."

"Hey, David. Is something bothering you?" Don caught his arm.

David shrugged. "No."

Don just gazed at him, waiting patiently for an answer.

"Don't you hate it when he does that?" Terry asked over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom to shower. Don threw an affectionate glare after her, then turned his attention back to the situation.

David sighed, "Kylie and I…we don't really get along…that well." He finally confessed.

Don blinked, "Really? I mean, she might be a bit of a handful, but she's a good kid."

"We have…contrasting viewpoints."

"Big words, David. What aren't you seeing eye-to-eye on?"

He sighed, "Do I have to go into detail?"

Don raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I want to know, now. Okay," He sighed, "We'll switch you and Terry for a few days; I'll work with Kylie and you go with Terry."

The corner of David's mouth turned up in a small smile. "But you and Terry—"

"I'm sure she'll be fine with it." Don smiled. "Besides, you'll have to get over this eventually, and then I can go back to working with her."

David chuckled good-naturedly. "I appreciate it, Don, I really do, but I think we can work it out."

"Okay, then…" Don studied him for a few moments. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure. Get some sleep, tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"Don't be so pessimistic, David! We could have Johnnie home safe and his kidnapper behind bars in twelve hours. How do you know that?" Don smirked.

David chuckled, but there was little mirth in the sound. "Trust me, I just do. 'Night, Don." With that, he let himself into the other room. Through the doorframe, Don could see his father trying to persuade Charlie to put his work aside and get some rest. He shook his head, glad to have one less thing to worry about, as the door latched behind David.

By the time Terry emerged from the bathroom, Don was attempting to roll his chair across the room one-handed. She leaned against the wall, watching with undisguised amusement.

"You want to help me or laugh at me?" He asked, tossing a pad of paper at her.

"I'd rather laugh at you." She caught it easily and chucked it back.

He scowled, but she saw right through it to the amusement that he was trying to hide. Still, she took pity on him and helped him limp his way to the bathroom. "You sure you don't want help?" She asked him as she set clean clothes, his toothbrush and toothpaste, and shampoo and soap in their proper places. "I mean, it's not going to be an easy task, taking a bath with an arm and a leg in a cast, you know."

"Well, I wouldn't turn down help from _you_, but—"

"Oh, you." She rolled her eyes. "You're on your own." He stuck his tongue out at her as she retreated, then sat on the closed toilet to watch the tub fill with water. As it foamed into the white porcelain tup, the scent of roses danced on the steam.

"TERRY!" He yelped indignantly. "DID YOU PUT BUBBLES IN MY BATHWATER?"

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Well, I didn't get as much into that chapter as I'd wanted to, but right now it's looking like we've got two chapters left and an epilogue…just to give you a short timeline.

Now, onto the review replies. I'd like to take a brief moment and say that I was absolutely floored by the response I got from the last chapter…you all were just wonderful; I felt like I should be preparing an acceptance speech for some award or something. I just wanted to take a second to thank all of you together before I thank all of you separately. So thank you all. The review replies for last chapter are taking up FIVE pages in Word. Honestly, I'm so thrilled I'm speechless right now.

Denaliyasha: Awe, cliffhangers aren't _all_ bad, are they? Okay, yeah, they are. :) Hey, you're very welcome for the fluff, I hope you don't get sick of it. It's fun to write and I hope it's fun to read. Thanks for the review, I love it.

CityGirl928: I did look over your story, and I think it's great. It's very well detailed and seems to be flowing well. You're doing well, hon, even if it isn't Don/Terry. ;) Keep working and you'll do just fine, I promise. As for ideas, I really don't have any idea where you were planning on going, so I'm hesitant to hand out ideas, because I don't want to screw with your plot. But if you'd like, when I get a better idea, I'd be more than willing to help. And don't worry, you're doing great. Thanks for your review.

ollie-xox: calm down, darling, it will all be okay in the end. I promise. Just sit there with your nice little mongoose and it'll all work out. LOL, I'm teasing, darlin'. Your review cracked me up, it was just terrific. Thanks for the smiles.

P.S. Funky. Socks. Rule!

Anon: Honey, if you think those questions are going to offend me, you've got a lot to learn about me. :) It takes a lot more than that to upset me. But here are the answers to each of your questions:

You were right on this one. David's and Kylie's leaving was a last-second addition of mine, and in my haste, I got sloppy and forgot to re-read. My humblest apologies on this one…/Blushes/ My bad. :)

Yes, that was supposed to be the point on that one. I've noticed, in watching the series, that Charlie often goes into his own world in a snap. It would only make sense, then, that he would be that way here, as well. But maybe I didn't make that point clear enough—I had wanted it to be that he was there one minute and had disappeared the next.

This was another one I didn't really think through, because I didn't really see its importance. In my mind, I had pictured a normal steakhouse—one that served many entrees on its menu. Maybe I should have been clearer on this, as well—I just figured that Don would be smart enough not to order something he couldn't eat. Or maybe he had Terry cut the steak for him—that provides an interesting picture for the mind's eye, doesn't it:)

Thanks for the review and for your interest in my story…and I promise, I'm not offended by anything you asked.

Lime: You make me smile…your enthusiasm is so contagious and endearing. Thanks for the great review, it made me laugh.

SD: I'm glad you liked it so well, and that you continue to write long reviews…whenever I see one, I know immediately that you wrote it, and it makes me smile. I finally did decide on a tentative title for the story that has sprung from your idea. I've called it Second Shot, but I'm not sure if it will stick. Thanks for the encouragement on that, I could really use it. It's proving to be a difficult little piece of work. I have started, but it's on hiatus until I get NSF and parts of Her Secret finished so that I don't become overwhelmed. But it is coming, don't worry. Thanks for the great review and for all of your encouragement.

SD: Hi again/Waves/ I'm so glad you enjoyed it, and I know this chapter is long too, but I think the beginning pretty much filled the "fluff meter" for this chapter. Wow, lots and lots of fluff on that one….hee hee

InAMoment: Hey, there, hon! I've updated again, I bet you're shocked. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about our story, but between everything that's been going on over the last two days (I got to go see Star Wars yesterday!) things have been a bit crazy. I miss talking to you, though. Kylie is pretty fun to write, I'm really enjoying it. I hope she goes over well, though all responses so far have been pretty positive. That's encouraging. And Charlie/Amita stuff? Get ready for it, it's coming, as is a few other…fun things. /Evil Laughter:) Thanks for the review, hon, and I'll talk to you soon, okay?

Piccolo Chic: I'm so glad you liked it! And trust me, I love Don/Terry too…and there's more Charlie this chapter. Plus, next two chapters have lots of Charlie, though don't get too excited, because it might not all be good Charlie stuff…./Insert Evil Music Here/ I'm glad you're liking Kylie so far, and I know I didn't give you much to go on for the first chapter, but there's a bit more of her this time. And I'm thrilled that you took the time to print out my chapter and make comments…I feel really flattered. You're sweet…thanks so much for the awesome review.

KarateMom: Oh, I love your reviews. You always know _exactly_ what to say to make me grin and blush like an absolute idiot. All those things you pointed out were things I almost took out at the last-minute revision stage, but your review made me really glad that I didn't. And, as you can see, things aren't all sunshine and roses for David and Kylie, and what she does to our beloved ship in future chapters, you'll just have to wait and see. /Insert diabolical dun-dun-dun/ Isn't Amityville Horror something else/Shudders/ That movie scares me to death. I won't go see the new one; the old one is quite enough for me, thankyouverymuch! Reviews that long are not only allowed, they are cherished. Thank you so much, your wonderful review completely reversed a very sucky day the day I received it.

MissCongeniality: Breathe, hon, breathe! Oxygen is your friend, remember? Well, I'm glad I helped to pull you out of your depression. /hugs/ Glad you liked Kylie, but as to throwing our 'ship off course…./whistles innocently/ what would give you such an idea? I wouldn't ever do such a thing. /Angelic face/ STAR WARS RULES! (Yeah, I finally got to go see that movie yesterday…) I could so have been a Jedi in another life. I worship Yoda! (I think I have a keychain somewhere that says that…) AI…I gave up on that show about halfway through. I really don't think it went well this time at all. NUMB3RS FOREVER/Hands over MissCongeniality's jacket and cool socks/ Don and Terry RULE! Thanks for the great review.

Miss Congeniality: I want you to be the first one I break the news to—I am definitely continuing Her Secret, though I don't know for sure when the next chapter will be up, as it seems to be in a rebellious stage, believing it has a mind of its own. But soon, my friend, there will be much more Don/Terry fluff from that corner.

Jill: Ah, Renaissance fairs. Fun, aren't they? I'm glad you liked that last chapter, I knew you would. (Well, I'd hoped, anyway…) Yeah, I know, was down for like three days and I wanted to post my new story…/Pouts/ but it's back now. I'm very glad. Hey, if Pup does look like Charlie, I know _exactly_ where I'd go to get my hugs. Those girls at the fair aren't stupid…(Don't tell him I said that, I'm really not this forward in RL…/ducks head in shame/) Annnnnnnnnnyway, I hope you had a good time at your fair, hon, and I hope you like this chapter. Thanks for the great review!

EclecticTrekker: Hobbits/Gollum Voice/ Hobbits is good, precious…Sorry, it's 2:30 a.m. here…I'm a bit sleep deprived. :D You KISSED Ollie's mongoose? Ooh, I'm _telling_ on you…no, I'm teasing. I'm so glad you enjoyed it that much. It was so, so much fun to write. Funny, the response you described from your sister is pretty much the response I get from my brother whenever I try to explain the Don/Terry chemistry to him, as well: "Whatever. They're _TV_ characters. They don't _exist_!" Of course, this is usually the time I throw something at him. Siblings, they're such a pain. You have no idea how much your review rocked. It totally made my day. I walked around with this really wild grin on my face all day because of it. I know, the server thing was driving me _crazy_! I'm so glad they got it fixed. And your review is just awesome—and so are cannolis. Mmm…I _love_ cannolis. /Drools/ Thanks for the review and for the cannolis…

SEAL2FBI: I'm so glad you like it, and I'm glad the characterizations have come across well, they're one of the things I fret over the most. NUMB3RS rules! And so does the Don and Terry ship. Have a jacket and a pair of cool socks, they're from our Don/Terry support group. Thanks for the great review! 

Sqully: Yes, unfortunately, I had to leave of _somewhere,_ you know. :) Be glad you didn't come in on a real cliffhanger chapter, those are the worst. I know, because I write them. Hee hee…BTW, I checked out your bio page because your name seemed familiar but I couldn't place it. I loved your quotes, especially the "Boys are like lava lamps, fun to watch but not too bright" one. Pretty great. Don't worry, there's only 2 chapters left, then you'll have the _whole_story. Thanks for your review, it was great.

SD: I've updated, and I'm working hard on the next chapter, I promise/Smiles/

Stephanie519: Now I'll have to get used to your new SN, too:) Glad to see you've finally registered! I'm so glad you like my stories, and don't worry, there's many more floating around in my brain…eek! And don't you worry about not posting a notice on _Her Secret_, I've figured it all out now. :) Thanks, hon

mizukimarr910: Well, as I told Ollie at one point, you can't kill me, because then you'd never know how this all turns out! LOL! I'm glad you decided against killing me, though, because I've grown rather attached to living. It's a thing I have. I'm glad you like it, because its' been a lot of fun to write, and it always makes me happy to see that people are enjoying it. Thanks for the great review, you made me laugh.

P.S. I'm working that Charlie/Amita ship in there, don't worry. That one, at least, is certain, it's just slow in developing…

Nix707: I'm so glad you liked it…yeah, it's my first piece of posted fanfiction ever. I've been writing since I was 8, but this is the first real stuff I've ever done. I'm glad you enjoyed it, thanks for the reviews.

Nix707: The finale sucked royally, didn't it? At least from a Don/Terry shipper's POV. /Pouts./ I'm still trying to get over it. Glad you're enjoying it so far.

Nix 707: I'm so glad you liked that scene. It was hard to write, but I enjoyed it so much. Man, have you ever _seen_ Amityville Horror? That movie will scare you lifeless! I'd curl up pretty close to Don watching that too! (Of course, I wouldn't _need_ an excuse to curl up pretty close to him…) ;) Thanks for the reviews, hon, and I hope you liked this chapter as well, even though it was a little sadder.

deichtine: You say 'pop' in Canada? Huh, I didn't know that! Since I've posted this story, many people from all over the place have mentioned using that word, so I guess I was wrong about it, but it is pretty neat to know I'm not the only one. And I totally agree with you, pop just sounds so much better than soda! Thanks for the review, by the way!

deichtine: I'm really glad you're enjoying it, and you're right about the work put into it—this story's pretty much been my brain baby and my favorite pastime since March. I don't know what I'm going to do when it's all over. It's always been supposed to turn over into a more Don-centric story…the Charlie-centric summary is pretty much to keep people from guessing about the little plot twist (okay, plot-throw-out-the-window-and-become-something-completely-different) in the third chapter.

I'm actually really glad you brought that thread thing up, as I've been wondering about stating myself. I know that it seems at times that the plot is directionless or changes so quickly that I can't possibly have any idea what I'm doing, but I actually do. All those little loose ends, those little questions that have been nagging at the back of your mind, _will _be answered and tied together by the end. I'm working for one of those shocking little "Oh, so _that's_ the significance of that little piece" things, and I really _really_ hope I can pull it off. It's coming, I promise. In the meantime, thanks for your interest, and I really hope it comes out the way it's supposed to in the end—with a bang, of course. I never do anything subtly, it's not really my forte. ;) Thanks for the great review, and thanks for the questions, you did an excellent job of broaching the subject without making me feel attacked. You have quite a gift for that.

**And now, since it is 2:45 in the morning and I have to be up in four hours, I am going to bed. Take care of yourselves and behave! Love to all, Sila.**


	13. Seen It All

A/N: I know I was going to try to have this up sooner, but there's a mini author's note in the reviews section, so check that out for my explanation. Thanks for all your patience, everyone, and enjoy this insanely long and drama-filled chapter, okay?

**Disclaimer: I don't own NUMB3RS, all the nice people over at CBS do, and I hope they don't mind me borrowing the characters for a little while. I am making no money whatsoever on this—in fact, I'm _losing_** **money because I have to pay for my internet, so…yeah.**

**Dedication: Special dedication this time to Cora Clavia, who has way, way more patience with me than I deserve and who, without knowing it, has been my biggest cheerleader for this chapter. Yay! Thanks for all your encouragement, Cora, and _please_ hurry up and post more on Eye of the Needle and Perchance to Dream, because I LOVE them both! If any of you haven't read them yet, go do it now, because they ROCK.**

**Chapter 13:**

**Seen it All**

At five-thirty the next morning, a timid knock woke Don from his sleep. Terry groaned and reluctantly extracted herself from his embrace, then wrapped a terrycloth robe around herself and pulled the door open as far as the chain would allow. "Yes?"

"Agent Lake, I'm so sorry for waking you up at this hour, but I've got news I want to deliver in person…can I come in?"

"Kylie, of course." Terry stepped back, pulled the chain from the door, and opened it. The young woman stepped into the room, a huge smile lighting up her face, practically bouncing on her feet.

"So what's the news?" Don asked from his position on the bed.

"Exactly," Kylie checked her watch, "five hours and twenty-seven minutes ago, a black and white making a routine patrol found Johnnie Baxter walking along the side of the Ohio Turnpike. He was barefoot but unharmed, and he's down at the station waiting to talk to you."

"Really?" Don's face relaxed into a broad grin. "That's wonderful! Thanks, Kylie."

"No problem. I thought that would be news to deliver in person. Turns out I was right. I have to head back to the station, though. Hurry down there, Jess won't start without you guys—seeing as it's your case and all—but we want to get Johnnie home as quickly as possible. She's on pins and needles."

Don nodded his understanding. "Sure, that's no problem. Could you do me a favor and wake the others on your way out? That'll save us some time."

"Sure thing. See you soon." With that, Kylie disappeared through the door in the wall that separated the two rooms.

Twenty-seven minutes later, Don, Terry, Agent Jessica Smith, and Johnnie were seated around a metal table in the interrogation room. Johnnie was carefully turning a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee between his palms, morosely studying the tabletop.

"Johnnie?" Don began softly. "Can you tell us what happened?"

The young man sighed. "I was at home alone. Ty was out partying, I think. Somebody rang the doorbell, and I went to answer it. There was a huge man on the front step. Big black guy, about six and a half feet, maybe a good four hundred pounds…he shoved his way into the door." He paused for a moment. "We fought for a few minutes, then he shoved me against the wall and pricked me with some needle. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the backseat of my car."

"You knew it was your car?" Terry asked softly.

"Yes, I could see the little stuffed dog with the suction-cup paws on the back windshield." Johnnie told her quietly. "I was lying down on the seat, my hands were tied behind my back with one of those electrical ties—you know what I mean, those black cords that you loop around and pull through."

"Yeah, I'm familiar with it." Don told him with a slight scowl, remembering his own experience with the evil little plastics. "Then what?"

"We drove. I didn't move or talk…I didn't know what he was planning, and I didn't care to find out. He drove for what seemed like _ever. _He called someone on his cell phone several times…called him Mikey. I heard him say that we had crossed into Ohio. He said we were heading for Cleveland—the airport. And then…just after we'd crossed about half the distance, he got a phone call. Started…_screaming_ into the phone. Said that Mikey was a moron and that he should have thought of" His fingers made little quote marks in the air, "'this before now' and then he hung up, pulled over, hauled me out of the back end, and told me to start walking before he changed his mind and decided to kill me after all."

Don gave him an understanding smile and asked to be excused for a moment. He managed to wheel himself to a more private corner of the interrogation room, where he pulled out his cell phone, presumably, Terry thought, to put out a newer, updated APB on Johnnie's car and its driver.

"That's it? No questions asked, no retribution, no nothing?" Terry was skeptical.

Johnnie held out his wrists, bearing the marks of the electrical tie, as verification. "I know, I know, it was hard to believe myself, but I didn't ask questions, I just took off as fast as I could."

"I bet." Don said sympathetically. "Why don't you just—"

"'Scuse me, could you come out here, please?" The voice made them all jump. Don wheeled around in his chair as well as he could, meeting the intruder. It was tall, balding Agent Monroe, and he looked murderous. Don nodded and Terry rose to push him into the hall, Jessie following at their heels.

"Excuse us, Johnnie. We'll be back in just a moment." She told him with a fleeting smile.

Out in the hall, Monroe wasted no time in explaining, "Toledo PD just pulled a car out of the river. Registered to Johnnie…and look they found stuffed inside the doors." He offered them three photographs. One was a shot of a trash bag stuffed with cash, one was a waterlogged-but-readable plane ticket—one way to Mexico City, and the last was a picture of a driver's license with Johnnie's picture, but the name Andrew Martin and a whole new set of information on it.

"He wasn't kidnapped." Terry said, voice choked, eyes hard. "He was running. He was in on it the whole time." Dropping the photographs into Don's lap, she dragged unbandaged right hand angrily through her hair and let out a livid sigh, then slumped against the wall, defeated. "Just when you thought you'd seen it all…"

"Let's get back in there and get what we can from him, though I'm pretty sure he's going to clam up on us." Don said gently, interrupting her brooding, handing the photographs over his shoulder to Jessie. Terry nodded her agreement and wheeled him toward the door, thanking Monroe as they went, who merely waved off their gratitude, "Just doing my job…"

Just as Don's hand settled on the knob, he glanced at them over his shoulder. "Do you mind if I handle this?"

Understanding and compassion lit Terry's eyes as she nodded. "He's all yours." Jessie quickly nodded her agreement as well.

Taking control of his temper before pushing open the door, Don met Johnnie's eyes squarely. "Johnnie, we need to talk."

"We've been talking." His voice was calm, just a shade of confusion tinting the words, but to the well-trained eye, signs of nervousness were beginning to show.

Jessie threw the photographs onto the table as Don explained, "We know you weren't kidnapped. We know you were running. You found out—somehow, probably through a contact—that we were watching the Cleveland airport. So you decided to change the rules. Play the victim until the time was right for you to take off again without leaving a trace. _That_ much we know. What we _don't_ know is why. What in God's name came over you? You were in on a conspiracy to kidnap your own sister, kidnap a federal agent, and you had the gall to think you were going to get_ away_ with it?"

Johnnie had dropped the façade. His dark eyes were now cold and callous, his jaw set. "I want a lawyer."

"A _lawyer_?" Don tried to laugh, but it came past his anger-choked throat as a growl. "That's the least of your worries right now! You're looking at _life_, Baxter, if not death row."

"You can't pull that."

"You'd better believe I'm going to try." Don's breathing was ragged and furious. "You killed Chrissie."

"That wasn't supposed to happen!" Johnnie screamed, slamming his hands down on the table, palms down. The cup of hot chocolate jumped and toppled, and a puddle spread across the table and dripped wetly onto the floor. Nobody paid it any heed. For several long minutes, the two stared at each other, locked in a silent battle of wills. Finally, Johnnie dropped his gaze.

"But. It. _Did_." Don, now victorious, hissed, leaning forward. "It did, and it's _your_ fault." He leaned back and took a long moment to compose himself. Terry's hand settled on his shoulder, feather-light, and he was grateful for her presence. "I might be able to spare you the needle if you help me, Johnnie. I'll see what I can do, but you'll have to help." He glanced at Jessie, checking to make sure that what he was doing was okay. She nodded and held up her hands in an obvious this-is-your-case-remember? gesture.

The boy settled sullenly back into his chair. "What do you want?"

"Do you have names?"

"Got a pen?" Johnnie smirked. His carelessness was _really _beginning to grate on the agents' nerves. However, Don nodded calmly and handed the pad of paper to his partner, nodding for her to take notes. The boy began. The first few were names Don didn't know, and for a moment, he began to wonder if Johnnie was lying again. And then came two words that stopped his heart, "Alexei Trent—"

"_Alexei_ was in on this!" Terry yelped, the pen jumping across the page to cleave a few of the names in half.

"Of course…" Johnnie said, a sneer lacing the words. "How else do you think the kidnapper knew to get ahold of Charlie at her house? How else did we know _exactly_ when Chrissie left the house? How else did we know…"

"Alright, we got the point. We need to get out of here." Don turned to the window, "Would one of you officers please escort this man into custody? We'll finish later."

Terry wheeled him out of the room, Jessie following, and surprise laced her words as she demanded, "What are you _doing_? We _had_ him, Don!"

Don's uncasted hand was clutched around the handrail of his chair, "Terry, remember that phone call I made earlier? I sent David, Charlie, and Kylie to Alexei's house…I thought we might have needed her help. They're there, with her."

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David knocked absently on the door, frustrated with his "assignment". He was stuck getting routine questions-and-answers while Don and Terry got to sit in on Johnnie's questioning? This morning was _not_ going as he'd hoped.

A sleepy-eyed Alexei opened the door, "Chris, this had better be the most important thing you've ever had to say to me…_Oh!_ Agents, I'm sorry, I thought you were my ex-boyfriend. Come on in, please." She opened the door and yawned widely. "Can I get anything for you; coffee, tea?"

"No, thanks, we're fine." David replied. "Ohio PD found Johnnie this morning. Agent Eppes asked us to come and speak with you. We just have a couple of questions for you."

"Oh, they found him? That's fantastic!" Alexei was instantly awake, the sparkle back in her blue eyes. "Let me go and get changed and I'll be right back to talk to you, 'kay?" She bounced off down the hall, leaving the two agents and their consultant alone in her sparse living room.

After a moment, Charlie wandered off, his dark eyes studying the few wall decorations in the room and the adjoining hall—where nothing had been a few days ago, there was now several pieces of framed mathematical diagrams and calculations, and a few bright pieces of artwork. He passed Alexei's room, the door safely closed, and continued his short journey. The hall wasn't very long, but in the days since Chrissie's death, Alexei had been busy hanging her friend's handiwork. He recognized several that were theorems he himself had worked at Chrissie's age.

Somewhere at the other end of the house, a cell phone rang. David's surprised voice, though still soft, echoed around the still-mostly-bare walls, which allowed Charlie to hear the words, "What are you _talking _about, Don? Johnnie gave you--" His voice faded to too soft to hear, "…Yes, I believe you, but it's a little hard to swallow. Okay, we'll be right there."Concerned, the young mathematician turned to make his way back to the front room. Partway, there, however, he stopped to investigate one of the mathematical pieces on the plastered wall, curious as to why a certain string of numbers had been circled with a red pen. They looked correct to him, at least when they were counted with the sequences around them. His mind whirled, working back through the problem before him, looking for the answer.

When David's demanding, "Charlie!" broke his concentration, he growled. He _hated_ being interrupted in his work. "Charlie, get out here! Now!" Now that he was listening, was there an undercurrent of panic in David's voice? He began to turn toward the sounds, but a tiny, all-too-familiar-these-days _click_ of a gun hammer stopped him in his tracks.

He spun, eyes widening. Alexei stood between him and the doorway, blocking his escape. He would've been okay with that, if it weren't for the gun she now held trained on him. "Don't move." She growled, sounding like a perp on one of those cheap 3 a.m. TV crime shows. However, he didn't think it wise to point this out to her and chose to, instead, follow her orders. She circled around him like a vulture for a moment before moving to stand behind him. "Stay right there."

There was a sound of rustling nylon—a duffel bag, perhaps. As she worked, she talked to him. "You know, you really should learn to be more observant. Chrissie was that way too…whenever she was working on something, a rocket could have gone through her bedroom window and she'd never have even looked up. It used to drive me crazy." She rose. "Okay, all set. Head to the living room." When he didn't move, she pressed the barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades. "Now."

Hesitantly, he began walking just as David appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall, "Charlie, what are you doing back—"

He froze when Alexei's head poked out around Charlie's shoulder. The gun left its position long enough to be shown to David, then it returned to its place between Charlie's shoulders. "Back up, Agent. I'm in a bit of a hurry, and I don't really want to have to kill anyone."

David's hand went to his hip automatically, and Alexei raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't do that…not if you want to get him," She jabbed the pistol into Charlie's shoulder, "And yourselves out of here alive. Now _back up_ and get your hand away from that gun."

Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, David did as she told him. He locked gazes with Charlie, who looked less like the super-genius he'd come to know and more like a scared child. The dark-skinned agent nodded at him, letting a small, reassuring smile play on his face. He was relieved to see Charlie relax just a little.

They backed out into the bright living room, where Kylie stood before the picture window, one hand around her gun, which was aimed at the floor for the moment, the other holding a cell phone. Alexei just shook her head at her. "Put it down, Sunshine. _Now_." Kylie scowled as she did as the girl ordered. "Good girl. Okay, Agents, here's how this is going to work. In," She glanced down just long enough to check her luminous watch, the gun at Charlie's back never wavering, "twelve minutes, a friend of mine is going to show up at the curb out there. If you do what I want, Charlie here gets to leave with all his blood intact. Sound good?"

"What do you want, Alexei?" David snapped.

"I want Nancy Drew over there to put her gun down. You too, Agent Sinclair. On the coffee table, then you get back against the wall. Do it now." For someone so young, she was managing to be pretty intimidating, David decided as he followed her command. Beside him, Kylie did the same.

"That's good. Charlie, be a dear and pick those up for me, Sugar?" Her voice was sickeningly sweet. Charlie moved forward and shakily handed the pair of guns back over his shoulder to Alexei, who tucked them carefully into her bag before zipping it closed. "Thank you very much, these will be immensely useful, I'm sure. Now, everybody just sit tight until my pal gets here, and this will be all over."

At that moment, David's cell phone chose to chirrup loudly.

"Don't answer it, Darling…" Alexei said warningly.

"If I don't, Don will know something's wrong." David countered, only half-praying that she would allow him to answer. If Don found out what was going on here, there was going to be hell to pay.

She thought about it for a moment, "Oh, why not? By the time he gets here, I'll be long gone. Go ahead." She shrugged, obviously enjoying the little game she'd created for herself.

"Sinclair." David answered, sounding as sure of himself as ever.

"David, what's going on over there! I told you to get out and call me."

"Yes, well, we've run into—a bit of a situation." David said, choosing his words carefully.

"What _kind_ of a situation?"

"Uh…"

Don had a bad feeling about this. "Let me talk to Charlie."

"What? No, Don, you can't. He's pretty busy right now." David's eyes widened as he shook his head slowly.

"David Sinclair, I want to talk to my brother. I don't care if he's broken through his P vs. NP thing, I want to talk to him."

"Give the phone to Charlie." Alexei smirked. Clearly, this was amusing her.

"I'm not really sure that's such a good idea…" Thoughts of what Don would do if he found out that Alexei was holding his little brother hostage flashed across his mind. "In fact, I'm sure it's not."

"Just _do_ it" She snapped, bored with his protests. Charlie held out an unsteady hand for the phone, and David hesitantly placed it in his palm.

"Don?" Charlie tried to control the shaking in his voice as he answered.

His brother, however, saw right through it. "Hey, buddy. How are things going?" He said soothingly.

"Pretty good."

"Don't _lie_ to me, Charlie." The warning tone had returned to Don's voice, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the truth. Beside him, Terry took his right hand gently in hers, lacing her fingers through his, despite the cast, and providing a pillar of solid strength. He squeezed her hand as best he could and gave her a quick smile of gratitude.

The consultant's dark eyes scanned the room, sizing up the situation. David and Kylie seemed to be holding a silent conversation and (he glanced over his shoulder) Alexei was watching him with undisguised interest. "Things…have been better."

"What's happening?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you…"

"I have to know, Charlie. My team's in trouble. You know what, forget it, I'm on my way over. Stay put, don't do anything dumb."

"Don, no!" It was the only thing he could think to say. Bringing Don into this would only make Alexei feel more trapped, and even he, with his little knowledge of the criminal mind, knew that it was never a good idea to allow that to occur…not to mention that the idea of putting Don in the situation they were in now made his heart clench. No way could he let that happen. Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw movement. Kylie was taking tiny, almost imperceptible steps, circling around to try to get a shot at distracting Alexei, he assumed. His stomach tightened.

Don was speaking again, "Then tell me what's going on, Charlie. I'm getting really worried."

"Hey, I said not to move!" Alexei had just noticed Kylie's steps. Her gun fired—not at Charlie, but at Kylie, who fell to the floor immediately.

This left an opening, the one David had been hoping for. Without hesitation, he grabbed Charlie by the wrist and yanked him from Alexei's grasp, Charlie dropping the phone as he went, then David was pulling the stunned and terrified mathematician behind him. At the same time, he pulled a backup gun from the inside pocket of his coat and leveled it at Alexei. "Kylie, are you okay?"

The girl sat up, one hand pressed to the flowing wound in her right side. "It hurts, but it's…" She paused to breathe, wincing, "It won't kill me."

"I could." Alexei reminded them.

"You could," David told her, meeting her eyes unfalteringly. "But it won't get you very far. Just put the gun down. Please, Alexei, there's nothing you can do now. It's over. I really, _really_ don't want to have to hurt you." Sincerity laced his words—she was a killer, guilty of helping to murder her best friend, but he didn't want to hurt her.

"I won't go to jail." She hissed, her grip on the pistol never wavering. "I won't."

"You have to."

"I don't _think_ so." Her finger tightened around the trigger.

So did David's, and their guns went off at the same moment. Alexei's shot went wide, shattering a pink glass unicorn that sat on a shelf above David's head.

David's shot, however, hit its mark—he felt his heart break even as it connected—and she fell to the floor, lifeless before she hit.

Regardless, the agent hurried to her side, kicking the pistol out of her grip before taking her pulse. His face was tight as he rose, "Dead." He didn't have time now to worry about Alexei, however, as Charlie collapsed onto a couch, still shaky, and Kylie was still seated on the floor. He snatched up the phone, hurrying to check Charlie over as he went, and dialed, holding it to his ear.

Don's worried voice met him, "Charlie? David?"

"Oh, God, Don, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot you were still on the line. We're okay, it's over."

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later; we need an ambulance. We'll call you back in a minute, I promise." With that, he hung up and put through a 911 call. Then he tossed the phone back to Charlie, "Call Don back while I help Kylie." He ordered, kneeling beside the quiet agent. "Hey, there. How're you doing?"

She forced a smile, "I'm alright. Hanging…" She trailed off.

"Lay back." He commanded, piling couch and chair pillows beneath her head. She smiled her thanks and held out a hand. Hesitantly, he took it.

"I know I've been nothing but a pain in your neck this past week. I'm sorry about that, I really am. As much as you've driven me crazy, I've really enjoyed working with you."

"Yeah, me, too." He was surprised to find that it was true. "I guess your…strange tastes in the field are something I'll just have to get used to."

She tried to force a smile. "I appreciate that, David."

The sounds of sirens interrupted their conversation. As ambulances pulled into the driveway, he couldn't help but offer one more jab at her. "I could've put up with your weird questioning policy and I could have dealt with your lack-of-gun-control issues, but you _really_ have to get some taste when it comes to sports. The _Steelers_, Kylie?"

He moved to get out of the way as paramedics began to load her onto a stretcher, but she gripped his hand with surprising strength and pulled him back. "Just you wait, Sinclair. Someday, you'll see the light." Now that she'd had the final say, she felt that she could release him and, with a final smirk, was wheeled efficiently out the door.

"Yeah, _right_, Jackson!" He called after her.

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Wow, DRAMA! Sorry, I couldn't help it. We'd been lacking in Charlie drama lately, I thought, so I was compelled to write lots and lots of it this chapter. I got a bit carried away, I think, but I just loved the whole hostage scene and couldn't bear to get rid of any of it. So blame my plot bunny, who, for today, looks strangely like Will from _Pirates of the Caribbean_. I really should stop watching that movie at two in the morning.

Thank you all SO much for all your patience with me while I went through multiple issues these past couple of weeks—from graduation to ridiculous phone companies and everything in between. You so totally rock! (And now I'm quoting Nemo…hmmm..)

Next chapter: It all comes together. Only one chapter left, guys—plus a _very_ fluffily epilogue. ;)

Review Replies 

Denaliyasha: I know exactly what you mean about both the cliffhangers and the forgetfulness issue. I do that all the time too (forgetting who characters are) By the way, you should be very proud of me…I was going to have this chapter be a cliffhanger, too, but I decided that you all had been so nice to me that I would be nice back and not leave off with Alexei's gun in Charlie's back. /Shrugs/ Ain't I great? Heehee… I know what you mean about the reassignment thing, and I almost took it out for that reason, but I decided that it's Terry—she'd understand. Besides, I don't think she would have really minded working with David that much. :D And I know that this chapter was sadly lacking in fluff (I'M SORRY!) but there will be so much of it in the epilogue that you'll have a whole bed full of pillows. I promise. Thanks for your patience and for your review!

Nix707: Would it not have been GREAT if they had done that in the show? Oh, I would have positively _died_ of happiness on the spot, I swear it. The finale…well, I just hope the season premier is better than that. It wasn't a bad episode, per say, it just needed a little peppering of Don/Terry in there, which is hard to do when there isn't any Terry/cries/. Anyway, thanks for your awesome review.

Dana: I chalked that up to the fact that Don knows when he's reached his physical limits. He can read his body and tell when he has to shut down for a while. We've already seen from Charlie's actions on the show that he doesn't. His mind gets so wrapped up in things that it shuts everything—including his body—out in order to finish what he's working on. Alan knows this, and he knows that since Don's busy trying to recuperate, someone needs to keep an eye on Charlie. Plus, I think he's kind of worried about the emotional and mental impact all of this will have on Charlie. But thanks for the CC, I totally got your point. Thanks for the review and the interest, too.

Citygirl928: Hey, no problem, it's always nice to know that my input is valued. Thanks for the compliments on the chapter, too, and keep writing. You're doing fine, hon. I'm very much looking forward to learning what your very creative little mind can come up with in your future stories.

MissCongeniality: Thanks! I loved the beginning scene myself, I think it was my favorite part of this entire story so far. :D And thanks for the compliments on the rest of the chapter, too. And Her Secret Part II is finished (I have review replies and Author's notes left to do yet…/angelic face/) and Part III is in the works…I have _no_ idea how long it's going to end up being—probably until I get sick of it, which could take a while. I'm enjoying it to the max right now. Thanks for all your encouragement and everything…you're quite the goddess yourself. :)

marymelon3: I'm glad you liked it…the bath bubbles joke was actually my friend's idea, but I just loved it to no end, so I threw it in there. Thanks for all the compliments, and I hope you like the rest of the story as well as this part. :D

EclecticTrekker: Awe, thanks/blushes/ You're too nice. Thank you, thank you, thank you, your words just make my day. David rocks my socks all the time—he's just too cool. I can't wait to see what they do with him next season. I'm glad you liked Kylie, I'm trying REALLY hard not to let her turn into a Mary-Sue (A problem I tend to have with original characters…/sheepish grin/) Awe, I'm in your Hero club! I feel so honored—and trust me, you've been in mine since Chapter 1 of Geometric Improbability—and my brother is officially in love with you for writing Unladen Swallow, as he is a Monty Python uber geek. :D

And YODA/Squeals/ I love him! He shall forever reside in my room to watch over it. That's the absolute best present you could have given me/hugs Yoda cutout/ And in reply to Yoda's comment. "Thank you, Master, and yes, I am a Don/Terry fan. Someday, they and their shippers will rule the world. I can see it in the future." :D

Thanks again!

Piccolo Chic: Awe, thanks. You make my day with your great reviews, let me tell you. You know, I did have her tip her chair over in that one scene, but I took it out because I thought no one would like it. Now I wish I had left it in. /Sigh/ Such is life, I suppose. And I think she and David will get along just fine now. And Charlie came out alright, though I think the whole team's going to need some therapy after this. :D I was originally going to have this be a cliffhanger—ending with Alexei telling Charlie to walk into the living room—but I took it out and finished it so that no one would have to suffer. :D So thanks for your great compliments and you rock my world.

mizukimarr910: Oh, trust me, the Don/Terry ship is a _very _permanent thing. Yeah, you shouldn't really kill people, you know. It's frowned upon by polite society. I think there might even be a law against it somewhere. :D LOL, just teasing. Thanks for the great review and see you next chapter.

pkw: I know, I was wrong about the whole 'pop' thing, and as soon as I finish this story, I intend to go back and take it out, but for right now, I am just trying to finish it, so you'll have to bear with the mistakes for the moment. :D Thanks for the CC, though.

JadedMoment: hey again, hon! I'm glad you're feeling better, too. Being sick this time of year when school is just getting out sucks royally, doesn't it? Nope, I haven't forgotten about our story (LOL) and sorry things have been so crazy lately—I'm not ignoring you, honey, I promise. It's just been so hard to get anything done these last two weeks. /Shakes head/ I'm just glad to be done with it all. Thanks for all the sweet compliments. You make my day. :D

Stephanie519: I'm glad you liked the first part of that chapter so well. It was my very favorite piece to write, and I can't help but think there's going to be a lot more waking-up-in-each-others'-arms from me. I can't help it, fluff is just so fun to write! Good, glad you like the title. As soon as chapter 13 and the epilogue go up, chapter 1 of Second Shot will be the next thing to upload. I'm trying to restrict my number of stories to two at a time, because it gets too hard to keep up if I put too many up at once. But SS is next in line, I promise. Well, I guess the David/Kylie mini-mystery has been pretty much solved. ;) Sorry this chapter was lacking so badly in fluff—things got in the way. But much fluffiness is on the way. I promise. Thanks for the compliments and the great review!

merryw: Thank you very much…I always love to hear how my story is appreciated. And I think I feel even worse for the Baxter family now—their son's alive, but he's a total crook. :( Thank you so much for your compliments and I am so glad to hear you're enjoying it.

Jill: Your brother sounds like a fun guy. You're lucky, mine's a pain in the rear. Sometimes. :D I know, I thought about having something happen at the funeral, but I decided that there would be quite enough drama at the memorial without adding more. The bubble bath thing was kind of fun to add in…I couldn't resist. Can you imagine Don smelling like roses? Mmmm…yummy! ;)

KarateMom: Yay, another review from you! Your reviews are some of my very favorites. Thanks so much for the wonderful compliments. I'm so glad that the opening scene went over well, because I just adored writing it…in fact, I had to shorten it because I let myself get really carried away with it and it ended up being almost four pages long…eek! Awe, I'm so glad you liked the funeral scene, too, that was really difficult to write because I didn't want it to sound overly dramatic. Thanks for the compliments, too, on that scene, they really helped to boost my confidence. And Kylie's phone going off—trust me, I HATE it when that happens. My friend's went off during the SATs this year and she had to turn it over to the teacher. Not a cool situation. And Kylie's chair…DRAT, now I really wish I had left that in there! Ah, don't worry, Don and Terry are safe for now, they're so totally in love they can't see anything else (though they don't know that yet…:D) Nope, Kylie is definitely _not_ evil. I like her too much. LOL! As for David's issues with her…trust me on this, you _don't_ have to know someone really well to not get along with them. I learned this in cheerleading this year. :D I threw the bubble bath thing in at the last moment…it was my friend's idea and I hope she won't mind me stealing it…/innocent whistle/ I wanted it to help lighten the mood. Hope it did its job. You read it five times? It was insanely long, I am so flattered. Thank you SO much for everything, you're wonderful.

Lime: Here's more, and it's a LONG one. :D Thanks so much for the compliements, and I'm afraid there won't be much Don/Terry fluffy in the next chapter either, but TONS in the epilogue, so don't worry so much about it. Heehee…I'm an angel. See the halo? So the fluff IS coming. My promises. Thanks for the review, you rock!

a writer of fics: That's okay, I know ALL about the difficulties of finding time to write/review/whatever. Anyway, hope you liked this chapter, too. Thanks for the review!

ollie-xox: Hi, Ollie! And how is everybody's favorite demon rodent today? Don't cry, mongoose, it's okay. It's just because we love you so much! Ah, Kylie ain't so bad, is she? I've grown rather attached to her. Heehee…:D Thanks for the awesome review, and take care of the mongoose!

SD: Thanks for the clarification…heehee. Thank you so much for your compliments and for your reviews. I'm glad that you like the long chapters, because this one takes the cake and all. It's a monster! I just couldn't stop writing once I started. Thanks so much for the reviews and for the compliments.

MissCongeniality: Hello again:D Always glad to see your reviews. As for Ollie's mongoose….nobody quite has any idea why he's become our adopted little mascot, but he sure has. /Shrugs/ Things happen without explanation whenever I'm involved. It's a gift, I guess. Hee hee…thanks again!

Cora Clavia: Awe, thanks. /blushes/ I could just see David saying that and then Terry going all shy. She's still a girl, after all. ;) Either that or throwing something at him, but I voted for option one. I could totally see her doing that. Anyway, now it's my turn to beg you—PLEASE update Eye of the Needle…and I LOVED Perchance to Dream. I had to go back and fix the review replies on this chapter before I posted just so I could say that. You have _got_ to continue it, it's incredible. I'm heading there to review just as soon as I get these two up. Dang, girl, you get more and more awesome with every thing you write! More, please!

MissCongeniality: I'm sorry I didn't get this up in time for you to enjoy as a post-finals treat :(, but it's here now, so enjoy anyway. Thanks for all your encouragement and your sweet words. And two things to say to you: SUMMER! And Don/Terry fluff RULES!

e1981: I'm _so_ glad you're enjoying it! Thanks for stopping by to read and I hope this chapter is as good as the rest. Thanks for the review!

**Well, I'm off to post this now that my internet is running again/Cheers/ Thanks again for your patience, and if you have a little bit more, all your questions will be answered in the next and final chapter. Love to all, Sila.**


	14. Beginning of the End

/Cowers in her corner/ I KNOW I've been really bad about updating! I cannot believe it's been almost two months. As penitence, I've posted both the 13th chapter and the epilogue tonight for you folks. And if my internet connection will hold out, I plan on adding the first chapter of Second Shot and the third chapter of Her Secret (finished just this afternoon!) as well. I apologize again and again. I hope to never be absent this long again.

Well, this is it. I'm really surprisingly sad to see this thing go! But don't forget, there's a fluffy (I mean cotton candy and bunny tails fluffy, folks) epilogue after this, so all of you who've been clamoring for Charlie/Amita action, I have heard you and taken your pleading to heart. Check out the epilogue, it's about half Charlie/Amita and half Don/Terry (and just a hint of a pairing I _know_ you all saw coming!).

**Disclaimer/Tour guide voice/And here, we have the rights to one of the best shows on television, Numb3rs. As you can see, the card does not read with our dear authoress's name. Therefore, she does not own it. Thank you for your time.**

**Dedication: To everybody who's been supportive and kind while I plowed through this beast. You are all wonderful, and I can't thank you enough. Hope to see you all--every one of you--in my newer stories. :D**

**Chapter 13:**

Beginning of the End

Don sighed and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the ever-mounting tension in them. /_Note to self: This is the last out of jurisdiction case we take. EVER._/ He thought, glaring down at the mound of paperwork in front of him.

Deciding to cash in on a well-deserved break, he closed his eyes and let himself relax against the plane seat's headrest. In a moment, his mind had surrendered to sleep, complete with a recollection of the last two-and-a-half grueling days.

_We--Terry, Johnnie, Johnnie's lawyer, and I-- sit at the tiny metal table, which is spread with photographs and evidence baggies. Across from me is an insolent Johnnie Baxter, who sits with lazily crossed arms and a defiant expression._

"_Okay, Johnnie, I've had about all I can take. I want answers, and I want them now." I tell him firmly._

_The boy shrugs noncommittally._

"_Why did you do it?'_

_Johnnie shrugs again._

"_Was it jealousy? Did it bother you that Chrissie was everything you'd always wanted to be?"_

"_Agent, you are so far off." He says, a snicker evident in his voice._

"_Enlighten me, then."_

"_Mr. Baxter, I am advising you to invoke your Fifth Amendment Right and speak no further." Johnnie's lawyer, a fussy, balding man in his sixties, wheezes._

_But I've reached the end of my rope. "Why. Did. You. Do. It?"_

"_Look, it was never meant to go that far. If Chrissie had just kept her mouth shut, none of this would have ever happened. She never should have poked her nose where it didn't belong." His voice is snide; he's all too happy to push the blame off on his sister._

_I fold my hands (as best I can) on the tabletop and wait._

_Johnnie motions to his lawyer, who leans over and listens. After a moment or two, Baldy turns back to us. "Give us a deal."_

"_Perhaps…if your client is honest and cooperates. So you," I turn to Johnnie, "had better start answering questions."_

_Johnnie crosses his arms, ever stubborn. "Not good enough."_

"_Fine. We have the evidence we need." I shrug, hoping the obvious tactic will motivate Johnnie to speak. "A confession would look good on your record, but…your loss, Baxter." I push away from the table, taking the façade a step farther._

"_No, wait." He sighs, resigned. "I'll talk."_

"_I thought you might." I reply, not even attempting to hide the smugness in my voice and pulling back. "Terry, take notes."_

"_Got it." She says, pulling out a legal pad and fishing through her purse for a pen._

"_This conversation will be recorded. Do you understand that?" I ask formally._

"_I do." Johnnie says mockingly, but I pretend not to notice. Instead, I just nod and press the 'record' button on the tape player between us._

"_State your name."_

"_Johnathan Charles Baxter."_

"_And spell it for the record, please."_

"_B-A-X-T-E-R."_

"_Good. Now tell us, in your own words, what happened the evening of March 12, 2005."_

_Johnnie sighs. "I have to tell you what led up to it, first."_

"_That's fine."_

"_Chrissie and I had had a huge fight…" He trails off in thought._

_I prompt him gently. "About what?"_

"_Chrissie was a genius. I'm sure you knew that. She was also a computer whiz. So, even though she was only a freshman, she had gotten an accounting position in the school's office, sorting and updating accounts. Of course, she was supposed to keep everything completely confidential, but she had a big mouth." He grips the cup of water in front of him hard enough to crumple in the sides. "She noticed that we--some of my friends and I, that is--had somehow suddenly been able to pay our tuition, where we'd been struggling to do it before."_

"_And how did that happen?"_

"_That's what she wanted to know, but I told her to keep out of it."_

"_Well, you can't do that to me, so answer the question." My temper flares again before I can squelch it._

"_Agent Eppes, keep a civil tongue, please." _

_I decide to ignore the irritated lawyer, eyes still on Johnnie. _

_The young man leans back in his chair. "We sold drugs on campus."_

"_Excuse me…could you affirm that again, please?"_

_The young man rolls his eyes, uncaring, "We. Sold. Drugs. To. Pay. For. College." He says slowly, clearly, as if we were morons. He tips back in his chair, dropping his head over the back to gaze, bored, at the wall behind him._

"_I'm guessing your sister found out about it." I say, comprehension dawning._

"_She just couldn't shut up."_

"_So you killed her."_

_Johnnie's chair topples to the floor with a resounding clang. Terry is adult enough to hide her smirk, but I don't even bother to try. Even if I do, Johnnie will know I'm laughing at him, so why bother hiding it? A moment later, a sandy-blonde head pops back up. "I didn't kill her, dammit!"_

"_Yes, you did. You injected her."_

"_Did not, that was Frank."_

"_You had a hand in it, Johnnie, which makes you just as responsible as he is." My patience is wearing thin. Pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, a habit I've had since I was a child, I take as many deep breaths as possible, trying to calm my zinging nerves. "Back to the twelfth. What happened?"_

"_She had informed me earlier that day that she was going to have to tell the school." He shakes his head. "I told her she'd be sorry for it, but she was too upset to listen to reason."_

"_She never told me any of this." I murmur thoughtfully, casting my mind back over those dazed conversations in the moldy basement of some decrepit old house._

"_Chris had loyalty issues. She never would have suggested I was behind her kidnapping without being a hundred and twenty percent sure." He's scoffing, apparently, at his sister's devotion._

_I nod curtly, motioning for him to continue, not trusting myself to speak. _

"_So, I called Lex--"_

"_Lex?" Terry repeats, glancing up from her notes. "Who's that?"_

"_Alexei." He says, as though she should have known that._

"_Oh. Go on."_

"_Anyway, I called her and she started putting the plans together. In four hours, we had it well-covered."_

"_Why didn't you just kill her right-out?" I ask._

"_We can't just do things, Agent. We have to wait for instruction."_

"_I see. Instruction from whom?"_

"_The boss." He intercepts the question forming on my tongue. "And no, I don't know his name or where he is. All I have is a phone number." _

"_We'll turn that over to the Pittsburgh jurisdiction."_

"_Fine. So Boss tells us he wants a specialist, someone to 'fix our mistake'. Says he has contacts, can get whoever he wants. He gave us all the instructions, and we followed them to the T."_

"_Why did your boss want a mathematician?"_

"_He needed someone to cover our tracks. Someone who knew what he was doing and could do it without a trail. See, once my dear sister's disappearance got around," The scorn in his voice sears through my insides, making my blood boil, "he knew you guys would show up and you were likely to discover the same mathematical error--or rather, inconsistency--that she had. It needed to be erased immediately, before it was exposed and followed…all the way to him."_

"_So the plan was--?" I'm not quite getting the point here._

"_He'd read about your consultant. He knew that Dr. Eppes could handle the task. The plan was to fly your team in to investigate Chrissie's disappearance. Once you were here, well…he was supposed to disappear as well." He shrugs, as though to say that it wasn't his fault the plan want wrong._

_I feel the color drain from my face as the memories of my time in the hands of these men resurface. The thought of my little brother in such a predicament makes my chest constrict so fiercely that black spots dance in the corners of my eyes. I lower my face to try to hide from those impossibly-cold blue eyes, to try to get my breathing under control, to try not to lose my professional air. It doesn't work, and I'm afraid I'm going to pass out as more memories-turned-visions of Charlie in my position blaze across my mind._

_Fortunately, Terry comes to my aid. "I think a break is in order." She stands and wheels me out carefully, asking one of the guards to stand watch outside the door._

_Down the hall, in front of a marble watering fountain, she stops, comes around to the front of my chair, and kneels before me. "Don, breathe. It's okay." She commands, her eyes locking into mine, providing solidity, an anchor to the present. I follow her instructions, feeling the iron bands of panic loosen. I close my eyes, forcing away the apparitions, clamping down on my emotions. A moment later, a ringing cell phone is thrust into my hands. "I called Charlie. Talk to him, it'll help."_

_I press the phone to my ear with a trembling hand, smiling thankfully at her. Somehow, she always knows just what I need even before I do. _

_For once in his life, Charlie is carrying his phone. He answers on the fourth ring, "Hello?"_

"_Charlie?"_

"_Hey, Don. What's going on?"_

"_Nothing…just a…bit of a rough time in interrogation." I see Terry's eyebrows raise at the understatement, before she smiles warmly at me and moves to take a drink from the fountain. I suspect she's really trying to give me some privacy without going too far, and I'm grateful. _

"_Oh." He's quiet for a moment, but decides, after some debate, not to press the issue . "I'm at the hospital, by the way."_

"_Kylie?"_

"_She'll be just fine. You'll never believe who's here."_

"_Who?"_

"_David."_

"_Really? I thought the two of them weren't getting on so well."_

"_Life-and-death situations seem to do wonders for strained relationships." He quips, and I hear a smile in his voice. My pulse finally returns to normal, and I even feel my face relax into a smile. "They're filling out the transfer paperwork."_

"_Great. Listen, I better get back to interrogation. Thanks, Buddy."_

"_Sure." He sounds confused, probably wondering why I'm thanking him. After a hurried good-bye, I close the phone and hand it back to Terry with a grateful smile and a hurried thank you before saying determinedly, "Let's do this."_

_Her face splits into the smile I've grown to love. _

_

* * *

__In another ten minutes, the four of us are gathered around the table once more, and this time, I'm getting my answers. "Okay, let's get through this. Alexei helps you kidnap Chrissie, then your boss pulls some strings to get Charlie out here to kidnap him. What went wrong?"_

"_Frank."_

"_Sorry?" I stammer._

"_Frank Dyker. He was in charge of the actual kidnapping of Doctor Eppes."_

"_And he screwed it up?"_

"_Yup. He was in the Chinese place, doing something dumb, I'm sure, minding his own business. He heard Agent Eppes here walk in and give his name for his order, and his mind jumped, as always, to the wrong conclusion."_

"_He thought I was Charlie?" I know the two of us look a bit alike, but not that much. _

_Johnnie nods._

_Terry interjects, "You didn't give him a photo or anything?"_

"_Look, Agent Pond--"_

"_Lake." I correct coldly._

"_Sorry, Agent Lake, Frank's strong and fast, but he's dumber than a box of rocks. Nobody can figure out how he got into college, let alone passed two years of it."_

"_So your friends decided to play a game with the lives of your sister and our agent? Brilliant." Terry's voice is cold as frozen steel, but Johnnie just smiles serenely at her._

"_Covering our tracks, honey."_

_I take a moment to quell my thoughts before continuing, angry with myself for letting this young man get under my skin the way he has. "Where did the equation come from?"_

"_Chrissie created it. The product of very long hours of work…you know the myth that it's easier to work back from the answer to get the problem? Yeah, that's bull. She spent days working on it. That's why we thought Dr. Eppes wouldn't be able to solve it in under three days. He's good." The young man admits grudgingly, and I smirk at the praise. _

"_How did you manage to force her into that?"_

"_They didn't tell her why they needed it--only that if she created a good equation, it would help her to get out."_

"_So she never knew that you had a hand in her kidnapping? Or mine?"_

"_No, and I had nothing to do with your kidnapping, Agent."_

"_You were in on it, Johnnie! When will you understand that that makes you just as accountable as the rest of them? How many times do I have to state that?"_

"_You can't even begin to imagine what I saved you from." _

"_Oh, really? Try me." _

"_We'll leave it at the fact that the boss doesn't much like Federal Agents. He had plenty of ideas to make your stay with us more enjoyable." That overconfident smirk has returned, and I resist the urge to strangle the willful twit._

"_And I suppose you got right up in his face--figuratively speaking, of course--and stuck up for me."_

"_More or less." He says offhandishly. _

_I take another deep breath, "Okay, Johnnie, moving on. Who made the calls from my phone?"_

"_That'd be me." He replies proudly. _

"_Okay…who shot Terry?"_

"_Shot at her. That was Thomas. He missed you on purpose, you know." he directs the last sentence at Terry, whose cool demeanor never falters._

"_I'll remember to thank him." She replies evenly. "Thomas who?" _

"_Rodriguez." _

"_And who built the bombs for the house?" I ask._

"_Thomas and I both did."_

"_Thank you."_

_We talk for another few hours, bringing to light everything we can think of to address: the hand-drawn picture (a part of the plan that, apparently, got interrupted by Chrissie's death…Johnnie refused to go into detail), why they'd chosen Charlie (another one that nearly caused an explosion on my part, mediated at the last second by Terry), why the significance of the house Chrissie and I had been found in (it had been a center for drug-involved activity for the last three years, abandoned just last winter due to a drug bust. He knew that hiding us there would be safe, as no sane criminal would return to the place), who it was that had restrained me in the basement long enough to inject me (Frank again; I was really beginning to develop a personal vendetta against the guy), then,_

"_What did you inject us with?"_

"_I didn't do it." He says calmly, knowing it will aggravate me._

"_Fine." I growl, on the verge of giving up, "What did whoever-it-was inject us with?"_

_Johnnie is quiet for a moment, apparently trying to decide whose wrath was more worrisome. Seemingly he decides mine is, because he finally answers the question with a wave of his hand, as though her were brushing away a bothersome fly, "Librium."_

"_You're kidding." I snarl, my face burning. "I hope, for your sake, that you didn't know about that beforehand."_

_His defiant eyes are answer enough. If I had full use of my legs, I would walk out now. Unfortunately, I'm stuck here for the time being._

_Once again, Terry comes to my aid. She tenderly lays a hand over my knee beneath the table. I rest a hand over hers, drawing from her quiet strength, grateful for her presence. "How much?"_

"_For you…80 milligrams. For Chrissie, I think it was sixty-five."_

_I close my eyes, feeling that these past five hours have been more stressful than the last two years of my life put together. Taking nearly a full minute of silence, I compose myself and lean over to check Terry's paper. _

_There's a few minutes of silence while Terry and I look over the notes she's taken and Johnnie and his lawyer speak softly. Finally, I sigh. "Just a few more questions, then your end of this case is closed. You'll have to answer more, though, for the investigation into the drug ring, which we'll be turning over to Agent Smith, since it's not part of the case we were brought out here to investigate."_

_Johnnie shrugs again. "As long as I know I'm going to be safe…you have any idea how far I'm sticking my neck out here? If these guys find out I'm the one that rolled over on them--and make no mistake, they will--I'm a dead man."_

_I try to put some sympathy and understanding in my nod. "We'll do our best to make sure you're placed in the most secure conditions possible."_

"_Yay for me." He grumbles. I'm slightly taken aback--isn't that what he wanted? _

_Terry gives me a confused look, and I raise my eyebrows, sending her an 'I'm as lost as you are' signal. We're distracted from our mental conversation, however, by Johnnie's elaboration._

"_Well, would you want to spend the rest of your life in a maximum-security-prison? Hm, here's a tough decision: jail or death. Fun."_

"_You should have thought of that before now, Johnnie. Long before now, as in 'before you started selling drugs'." Terry says, raising an eyebrow. Johnnie glares at her, apparently at a loss for words. She answers his unspoken challenge with a smirk._

_It's another two hours before both Terry and I are satisfied with the amount of information that Jonnie has given us. _

_We head out together. As Terry pushes me silently down the hall, I finally begin to relax. It's over. There'll be several more interrogations before we can go home, of course, namely those of Johnnie's company that we already have in custody, but the main mission has ended. _

_Terry senses my relief and, once we enter the elevator, lays a hand on my shoulder, a simple touch that relays so much. I turn as well as I can to offer her a smile of my own. We did it. I've never been more proud of my team…or my brother.

* * *

_

"We are beginning our descent, please fasten all seatbelts and return your trays to their upright positions. Thank you for flying with American Airlines." The pilot's chipper voice jolted Don from his sleep. He cursed as he realized that he had slept away the entire flight and he still had mounds of paperworksomewhere…his eyes widened as he realized that the papers were no longer in front of him.

A manila envelope was handed across the seat to him. "I filled it all out, Don, you just have to go through, make sure I did it right, and sign them." Terry said, grinning at him.

"You should be sainted."He replied, taking the envelope gratefully. During the last fifteen minutes of the flight, Don rustled through the contents of the packet. Everything was carefully filled out and labeled in Terry's precise, neat handwriting. By the time they touched down at the airport in LA, the envelope was stowed safely in his briefcase, ready for filing.

* * *

"Ah, bed." Don cheered, letting Charlie help him from the chair before flopping unceremoniously to the covers of the spare room in his brother's house, where it had been decided he would stay while on the mend. "I can't wait until I can get out of this chair..."

"You heard Doctor Williams. Don't rush it." Charlie admonished, watching Don carefully.

The agent shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it playfully at his younger brother. "Quit hovering." He commanded, but Charlie merely grinned more cheerfully.

"It's my right." He replied, draping the shirt over the back of the chair next to the bed.

"I suppose so." Don admitted grudgingly after a moment of thought.

Charlie smiled at him, "Get some sleep, Don."

"You too, you look like you could use it."

The younger Eppes brother nodded. "Yeah, I could…"

* * *

It was another month and a half before Don got the call.

He arrived at his apartment, tossed his keys down, and made his way slowly to the refrigerator--still getting used to the strange feeling of the new walking cast he'd be using for the last few weeks of his healing process--when he noticed the answering machine light blinking. Curious, he pushed the "play" button. Nobody ever called him on his home phone, everyone knew and used his cell.

"Hello, Agent Eppes. This is Jessica Smith, with the Pittsburgh FBI. When you get this, could you give me a call immediately at…" She rattled off a phone number as Don studied the clock, trying to decide if nine-thirty was too late to catch her at the office. Shrugging, he settled on calling, because now his curiosity had the best of him.

He dialed quickly, holding his breath until she answered on the third ring, "Hello, this is Jess Smith."

"Hey, Agent Smith, this is Don Eppes."

"Hey!" Her voice was warm. "How are you holding up?"

"Pretty good, I'm settling back into a routine."

"Glad to hear it. I've got a couple of things to tell you. First of all, Kylie's being released next week, then she's got awhileof down time before she's ready to get into the work force again. I've sent a letter through to your supervisor, outlining how well she worked with your team and recommending she be placed with you. I hope that was okay."

"That's fine, I was hoping you'd do so." He answered sincerely. He liked the young agent's spunk and knew he would enjoy having her on his squad.

"Great. The other thing is, we closed down your drug ring case this week." He could hear that she'd been fairly bursting to tell him this. He felt his face burst into a grin.

"That's wonderful, Agent."

"Thanks. We managed to get all the way to the top from the information you and your team pulled from the Baxter kid. Even better, we discovered that this circle was responsible for over twenty deaths in the area, and we now have the evidence to prove it."

"That's terrific!" Don said genuinely, elated that he'd had a hand in such a monumental case and feeling a bit dazed by the onslaught of information.

For the next hour, they talked. Jessica told him everything she could about the case, from the mundane details to the final showdown. Don was more than eager to hear every word, interrupting often with questions, which she answered patiently. Finally, she seemed to be talked out, and a short silence followed.

"I'm impressed." Don finally said to break the quiet. "What a case."

The girl on the other end of the phone laughed. "You did good, Agent." A short pause, then she seemed to correct herself, "Nah, I take that back, you did excellently. Thank you for all your help, and if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call. It would be our pleasure to assist you and your team."

"Oh, it was my pleasure." Don said sincerely. "And thank you. There may be a time when I'll do just that."

"Until then, then." Agent Smith chuckled. "Evening, Agent Eppes."

"G'night."

He hung up, head spinning. Deciding he wasn't hungry after all, he made his way to the couch to process what he'd learned that night.

* * *

By the time he woke the next morning, Don felt strangely cleansed. He knew that it was because he could now put that life-changingcase behind him. Glancing at the clock as he put on a cup of coffee, he realized that he had nearly two hours until he had to be at the office. As the cheerful sound and smellof perking coffee filled the small apartment, he made his way to the briefcase by the door and pulled out an envelope, a letter which had arrived only two weeks ago. He'd been saving it until he heard what happened with the case, and he felt that he could open it now.

It was a plain violet envelope, addressed in an untidy scrawl. The return address read, "Mrs. Donna Baxter, 151 Lyndon Avenue, Pittsburgh, PA."

He took a seat in one of living room chairs, gazing thoughtfully at the envelope for several minutes before opening it, then lifted out several sheets of lavender-scented paper, all folded around something.

The something turned out to be several somethings, photographs. There were some old family photos--one of Chrissie and Johnnie as children, another one of the entire family on a Christmas morning, complete with snow falling outside the windows, one of Mark and Donna at the funeral--and several of Chrissie's gravesite, complete with flowers, which were dusted with a sparkling cover of late spring snow.

Wiping away the uncharacteristic dampness in his eyes, Don turned to the paper.

"Dear Agent Eppes,

I debated for a long time about writing this letter, and even longer about sending the pictures with it. If they brought up any unpleasant memories, I am truly sorry. I hope you understand that that isn't my intention. I merely wished to show you, a bit more, what our family used to be, along with providing a couple of memories for you, since it's a bit difficult for you to visit Chrissie's site, if you'd felt so inclined.

I cannot thank you enough for all you've done for us over these past months. I'll admit readily that I was uneasy with agents from another district taking over my daughter's case, but you far surpassed any expectations we might have set for you.

The way you cared about Chrissie and her case set you and your team apart. Although I'm sure that her circumstances with her kidnapping and your own were excessively unique for you as well, you never faltered in your search for the truth, regardless of where it might have led you.

I won't lie to you--having one child pass away and the other be responsible for her death has been nearly more than I could stand at times. You and your agents were a lifeline through those difficult weeks. You were honest, but kind; you were painfully professional, but you were still humans, capable of feeling and expressing your emotions.

I'll never forget the compassion you showed to my Chrissie when she needed it. You made a difference to her that cannot be put into words. And, through your expertise, we were able to have her back for those precious few hours. Once again, there are no words to express the depth of gratitude I owe you for such a gift.

Mark and I wish to extend again our sincerest thanks and gratitude for all that you've done. You conquered quite a snare of obstacles in the few weeks that you were here.

I cannot imagine what you went through for my daughter's sake. I know that you must have done everything in your power to protect her; she told us a few stories of her captivity. Her tales of your bravery and devotion were astounding.

I know it will be a long road to recovery for all of us. Emotional pains take far longer to heal than physical ones, do they not? I wish you the best of luck in all your future cases. I pray that you or your team never has to go through what this case offered again.

I will close now, as I'm sure you're busy. Once again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart (as does my husband).

Take care of yourself and your team, Agent. You have a good crew.

With love,

Donna Baxter"

Don sat back, holding the papers in one hand and the photographs in the other, staring at the wall opposite him. She was right, he mused, about the length of the road of recovery.

He refolded the letter and slid it back into its envelope, along with all but one of the pictures. That one was one he'd never noticed being taken…himself and Terry beside Chrissie's burial site, framed against the setting sun. He carefully slid it into a frame and stood the frame beside his computer, a bittersweet reminder of everything he'd gained and lost over the last few months. But, he decided, looking at the picture for a long minute before going to get his coffee, at least the journey had begun. And that, in itself, was worth the difficulties ahead and behind.

* * *

END

What a ride. It's over, everybody. It's officially over. :-( But there's much more fluffiness in the epilogue, which is also going up tonight. I can't thank you all enough for the support and encouragement you've shown me over these past 13 chapters. 13, my lucky number. Maybe that's a good sign that more good is on the way. I sure hope so.

Now for final review replies. (For this story anyway. Promise you, I'm not going anywhere!)

Denaliyasha: Hey, anytime. I know, I forget character names for the original characters in fiction all the time. I'm always having to go back and reread. Ah, the epilogue. I'm very fond of it, if I do say so myself. Pure fluff. Hey, insanity is FUN! Being sane is overrated. Nope, cliffhangers are finished, at least for NSF. Making no promises for my future stories, though. Thanks for all the compliments and for the sweet review.

olliek-xox: I am really glad you liked that chapter. I'm partial to it myself: I think it ties with the epilogue for my favorite. That electrical ties part amused me, too. I just love Don's snaky sense of humor. How did you manage to tie your hands together? You're nuts! ;) /Tosses treat to mongoose/ Sorry, buddy. You win some, you lose some. And I agree…SL, come back!

Sqully: Well, I'm impressed. I did my best that chapter to steer you guys off the track. Good job!

Nix707: Thank you so much. Yup, lack of fluff, and I'm sorry about that. It's in the epilogue, I promise!

mizukimarr910: I'm very glad you liked it. I know. I thought about having Charlie get shot, but I wanted to give kylie a chance to prove herself and be heroic. :)

Jill: I love Charlie drama too, and this story was a bit lacking in it, with the exception of his stress during Don's kidnapping. You know what? I don't have the slightest idea what could've been wrong with Chrissie's work. In case I haven't mentioned this, I'm a bit mathematically challenged. And this last chapter should answer all your questions, hopefully. And you mentioned my brother and I growing up…maybe you're right. I hope so. :D

LittleWing: That's okay…I'm just glad to know people are reading. Thanks for the sweet review, and I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Stephanie519: /blushes/ well, thanks. I'm particularly happy with chapter 12, and I'm so glad it was well received. I am thrilled that you like this story so much, it almost makes me wish it wasn't over. But I am glad to be done with it. And yes, SS is next in line, along with an idea that exploded, rather violently into my head last night. I guess there might be three stories going at once shortly. And yes, lots and lots of fluff in the epilogue. Thanks so much for your great review and all your encouragement.

Only Memories: I'm glad you like it so much! There is lots and lots of Charlie and Amita fluff in the epilogue…you'll see. I hope that will fill your quota. Thank you so much for all your encouragement and your help. Never could've done it without you.

Lime: Here's some more, and the (technical) end. Thanks for everything, especially all the encouraging reviews.

Prof3ss3r Marsi: Thanks a lot…I try to make my stories interesting, you know. :D

EclecticTrekker: ah, geez, you do wonders for my bruised writer's heart. I really hope that this chapter meets your expectations. And ooooh! BOOKMARKS/Huggles box/ I _always_ need bookmarks! Mine keep getting lost somehow. I can't thank you enough for your kind words and all your awesome gifts. (Long live Yoda! (Both the movie version and my way-cool cardboard one!))

MissCongeniality: Thank you for your sweet words. And yes, I will continue to post here at As I told Only Memories up there/points upwards/ I currently have 3 stories in motion--Second Shot, Her Secret, and a new one, "Love Me, Love Me Not." just a little heads-up and a little bit of reassurance that I haven't gone anywhere. Thanks again.

Cora Clavia: Oh, Cora, you're too good to me. And there's lots of fluff in the epilogue, as you've seen…Terry in pink, how precious! I'm so glad you're enjoying this, but I have to end it before it drags out too long. I only hope that the rest of my work will continue to please, though I know that NSF will always hold a special place for me. I want to thank you again for all your help. You're an angel.

marymelon3: I'm so glad you are enjoying this. Thanks for the compliments, and I hope you like this chapteras well.

PiccoloChic: Sorry this took so long, hon. I'm so glad you're enjoying it though. And there's three other stories in the future, as I've said, "Second Shot," "Her Secret", and "Love Me, Love Me Not." Hope you've enjoyed this chapter and will enjoy the epilogue as well. Thanks for all the support and the great reviews.

Timespurt: Hey, thanks, and yes, last chapter was supposed to be 12. Thanks for the heads-up, and I'll fix that shortly.

KarateMom: I know, and if you thought the wait for the _last _chapter was bad…two months! I am really sorry. And yes, I was thinking that whole time that I was writing that Kylie-waking-them-at-5:30 scene that she would have been a _very_ sorry woman if I had been Terry. Not only is 5:30 inhumanely early, but to be wrapped safe and warm in DON'S arms, of all people…yeah, she's asking for it. 27 minutes…oh, man, now MY mind is in the gutter. You're right, it _is_ fun to imagine. Well, I'm glad I fooled someone into believing in Johnnie's innocence. And I was always really careful about Alexei, she was meant to be the big twist. Thanks for the compliments about last chapter, they were wonderful. I'm so glad that 'hostage' situation went over so well, especially since I was really considering scrapping the entire thing. Well, I'm glad you like long chapters, too, because this one takes the cake. I LOVE your reviews, have I mentioned that? Much much fluffiness ahead…thank you so much, and I hope this chapter will meet your expectations as well, sine it's been in the works for almost half a year…:)

MissCongeniality: That's okay, the name for the baby has been selected. I'm here, I'm not leaving. Much more D/T fluff on the way.

Cora Clavia: does the epilogue fill your fluffy meter:D Awe, thanks…humor is something I really struggle with, so its' always wonderful to hear it's appreciated. And yay! I never got an A+ in school…I feel special! I never did get to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, though I wanted to because I really love Johnny Depp. I guess I'll just have to wait now until it comes out on video. :(

MissCongeniality: Yeah, I'm okay…thanks for the concern, hon. I'm sorry…yeah, the D/T fandom will continue to shrink, as Terry no longer exists :( /Sniffle/ think we should all have our jackets for our fanclub…I'd sleep in mine! And key chains…we always need those.

MissCongeniality: Hm…a new girl. Well, I'm willing to like her for now. We'll have to see how she does during the season. P.S. I couldn't find the story you mentioned…is it archived here on Maybe I missed it.

**Well, thanks again, everyone. You've made this experience much more enjoyable for me. I can't thank you enough. See you soon! All my love, as always,**

_**Sila Ninque**_


	15. Epilogue!

As requested (many times) the fluffy-bunny epilogue to NSF. YAY!

**Disclaimer:** I Don't own it…please don't sue me, I can't afford it.

**Dedication:** Dedicated to the wonderful and amazing Cora Clavia, who has been beyond an encourager and an editor, but a friend to me over these past few months, and especially for all her work on these last two chapters. Thanks again, girl!

**Four months later…**

The late July sun streamed through her window, effectively waking Terry from a sweet dream. She lay still for a few moments, relishing the dream's memory for just those precious seconds, before opening her dark eyes and stretching languidly. She stretched to wrap an arm around Don, sighingwhen her hand touched empty sheet and memory came back to her: he'd gone home last night straight from the office…for the eighteenth day in a row. Concern furrowed her brow; he'd been so distant lately that she wasn't sure what to make of him. She cast her mind back over the last three weeks, trying to remember if she had said or done something to make him angry with her.

She climbed from bed, shedding clothes on the way to her tiny bathroom. The hot steam from her shower cleared her senses and by the time she stepped from the shower , she was in a much better mood. She slapped on the small radio she kept on the counter, humming along as she fixed a late breakfast for herself. The night before had been tough and late, and Don had agreed to let her come in late the next morning. She decided to eat on the couch while looking over the paperwork for the newest case they'd acquired.

She had just taken a seat, her bagel in one hand and a folder in the other, when her cell phone rang shrilly. She set her armful down on the coffee table and rose to answer it. She shifted through the pile she'd dropped in the chair beside the door last night on her way in, searching for her still-beeping cell. When she finally located it in the cushions of the chair, she hastily flipped it open and pressed it to her ear. "Lake."

"Hey, beautiful…I didn't wake you up, did I?" At the first sound of his voice, all her doubts and fears melted. Apparently, whatever he was going through didn't involve her.

"No, I was just sitting down to review the case."

"You need to get out more." His voice was teasing, but there was a note of concern in it.

"I'm fine, Don, I'm just…working hard. You know me." She was quick to reassure him.

"Well, I'm getting you out of the house tonight if it kills you. Unless, of course, you have other plans."

She resisted the urge to snort. When was the last time she'd had plans that she wasn't willing to cancel for him? Oh, right. Never."Not a single one."

"Good. I know you're coming into work today, but be ready to duck out around six…I've got dinner reservations for seven-thirty."

"To where?" She asked, excited. This was to be only the fourth time they'd been out together since their arrival home from the Baxter case all those months ago…and the first time they'd gone to a place that required reservations.

"Now _that_ would ruin the surprise. Just be ready to go at six."

"How will I know what to wear if you don't tell me where we're going?" She knew she sounded like an overeager child, but she couldn't help it. His laugh was warm and bright and held just a hint of secrecy.

"You'll know, I promise. Don't worry. I'll see you soon."

"Okay…bye!" She hung the phone up and collapsed on the sofa, grinning like a mindless loon. Don was taking her out to dinner…someplace nice, she was sure. She allowed herself to wallow in the happy prospect for a few more minutes before rising and turning her mind firmly back to her work. But she couldn't resist a peek at the clock…there was only nine hours left until they'd be heading out.

The shift was a long one, though by the time five-thirty rolled around, the entire team was in high spirits. Their new case had been solved spectacularly, with a full confession from the woman behind the killing. She had even been so kind as to turn over the murder weapon to them. All in all, it had been a good day.

Don gave her a surreptitious glance before announcing, "Good work, everyone…let's get out of here before they find something else to give us to do."

If anyone was surprised by this slightly uncharacteristic announcement, they were smart enough not to show it. Hastily, the group gathered their things and headed out the doors. As she passed by, Kylie, who had arrived and begun her work just a week ago, gave Terry a little nudge in the ribs. "Have fun tonight." She whispered, linking her arm through David's as they strolled casually out the door. Terry was staring after them, wondering when the world had gone mad, when Don came up behind her and placed a hand between her shoulder blades. To anyone else, it would've seemed a perfectly platonic gesture, but it made her skin burn pleasantly beneath her black silk dress shirt.

"What was that?" She asked, gesturing to the retreating pair, who had their heads bent close together and were laughing quietly about something.

"Oh, they've been sending love letters since we left Pittsburgh. Quite endearing, actually." He stopped his explanation at the incredulous look on her face. "What? You didn't know that?"

"Obviously not…how did _you_ find out about it?"

"David told me." He shrugged. "I noticed the way they were behaving around each other--edgy and a bit awkward--as soon as she arrived and asked him about it; I wanted to make sure they weren't going down the same 'not getting along' path as they were in Pittsburgh. Obviously not… you must have just been too distracted." He said to her how-did-I-miss-this look. By now, he was stealthily guiding her to the door. She went willingly, head spinning.

"I think I'm just going to cease being shocked now." She told him as they exited. He gave her a dubious look.

"Terry, you're an FBI agent. You think you can stop being surprised by peoples' behavior?"

"I can if I concentrate hard enough. Am I dressed right?"

"Relax, Terry. Everything's under control." He told her, leaning over to kiss her cheek as he opened her car door for her. She climbed inside, feeling as though she might melt into a contented puddle on the seat. This was so unlike the Terry she'd tried so hard to become, but she decided she didn't care as Don climbed inside behind the wheel, gave her a grin, and started the car.

* * *

Charlie sighed, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face. "We're getting nowhere." He commented, threading his fingers through his dark curls.

Amita slid an arm consolingly around his back. "You knew when we started that this wasn't going to be easy." She said gently. "You're doing great."

He turned his face slightly to give her a smile. "Thanks, Amita."

Her arm tightened slightly in a kind of one-armed hug. "No problem. You haven't eaten all night, how about I call for a pizza?"

"Sounds great." He confessed, sinking back against the couch as her comforting presence withdrew.

"Where's your dad tonight, Charlie?" She asked from the kitchen as she flipped the pages of the phone book.

"Out on a date."

"Same girl?" Alan had been seeing a woman, Marsha Briggs, for nearly a half a year now.

"Yeah, Marsha again."

Amita found the number, placed the order, and returned to the living room, "I'm glad he'd doing so well in the dating circle."

"I guess so." Charlie was scribbling furiously on the chalkboard again.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up." She apologized, cringing inwardly.

"Huh?" He looked up at her, blinking curiously as he tried to figure out why she was apologizing. It took a moment or two to dawn on him. "Oh, no, it's not a problem. I'm not upset with you." By the end of the sentence, he was talking to the chalkboard as his fingers flew. A split second later, he slammed the chalk down in an uncharacteristic display of temper. "Why won't this _work_?"

"Hey." She caught his hand, hovering millimeters from erasing the work. "Take a break. Relax. When you come back, it might make sense." She advised, gently prying the board from his hands.

He sighed. "Okay, you're right." He admitted, settling back against the cushions. She laid a hand tentatively over his, trying to calm him. He gave her a grateful smile. "I need to get my lesson plans done…you want to help?"

"Sure." She answered, glad that he had thought of something to distract him. He gave her hand a squeeze before leaning down to rifle through his enormous canvas bag, pulling out several thick books. He handed her one and opened the other on his lap, setting the pile of lesson plans he'd already put together between them. She smiled and bent over the book, her dark curls tumbling over her flushed face. Charlie studied her profile discreetly, wondering why she held such a pull over him. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, but it was more than that. He just couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"What?" She asked, meeting his stare from the corner of her eye. "Is there something on my face?" One slender hand came up to touch her left cheek, searching for a piece of tape or some chalk dust.

He shook his head, lowering his gaze. "No, I'm just thinking." He replied thoughtfully.

"Thinking so hard that you've lost track of your work?" She questioned, a smile darting playfully across her features.

He looked up sharply, concerned that he'd upset her until he caught her teasing smile. "Yeah, you're distracting me." He retorted, only half-joking.

"Hm, I can see that." She taunted, leaning forward to cross her arms over the open book in her lap.

* * *

They rode in comfortable stillness until the houses began to look eerily familiar. "Don, why are we going to Charlie's?"

"You'll see." He answered mysteriously. Though she could only see his profile, the tell-tale smirk was in place. Don was up to something.

Once they arrived at their destination, they climbed from the car in silence. Don was fairly bursting, obviously anxious about something. Terry followed him up the walk, smiling at his boyish behavior. He let them in the house without announcing his presence, motioning for her to precede him into the living room. She did, her curiosity mounting to a nearly explosive level. She never was very good at waiting for things, she mused as she followed his unspoken order.

In the doorway, she stopped. Her decision to no longer be shocked at anything flew out of her mind at the sight before her.

* * *

He smiled at her, all thought of lesson plans and even math altogether gone from his mind, copying her movements so their faces were only about a foot apart. Her dark eyes sparkled with mirth as she tipped her head to study him. He let her, though he felt his face turning a shocking shade of red. To occupy his mind, he studied her as well, this girl who had gone from his student to his friend to his…well, whatever she was. He was sure that his feelings for her were no longer platonic, though he wasn't quite sure _what _they were.

He let out an exasperated sigh. As though reading his mind, she reached over and gave his hand a friendly squeeze. It was a movement she'd used a thousand times in their relationship--as friends, of course--that somehow, now, held another dimension of meaning.

Before he could decide what the new dimension was, though, it was over. She drew her hand away and dropped her gaze, apparently scrutinizing the headline of the page on his book.

"Amita?" His call was so quiet, she wasn't sure he'd even said it. She looked up, meeting his eyes once more.

And he kissed her. He didn't know what provoked it, or why he decided to do it. He just knew it felt right, and he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. She stiffened, and he started to pull away, an apology already forming on his lips.

She gave him a Look before pulling him back, settling a hand in his hair to hold his head in place as she kissed him.

* * *

Terry's gaze took in Charlie and Amita, seated comfortably on the couch, thick books open on their laps and paper strewn everywhere. A small chalkboard rested on the floor by the coffee table, covered in rows of Charlie's untidy math-scrawl. Nothing about this scene was unordinary. The fact that they were ignoring it all wasn't even that surprising. The fact that reason they were ignoring their work--leaning across all the paper to wrap up in what looked like a very involved kiss--_was_.

Don, who had nearly collided with her when she stopped so suddenly, peered around his girlfriend's shoulder and stifled a triumphant laugh at the sight. _About time, too_. He mused.

"Do you think we should come back?" He asked softly, leaning casually against the wall.

Charlie jumped, and the pair pulled apart so fast that the neat pile of papers between them slid to the floor and tumbled everywhere. The younger Eppes brother's face turned as red as the shirt he was wearing as he stammered, "Don, I thought you were going to be later than this."

"Obviously." His brother teased. "We wrapped up early…did you pick them up?"

"Yeah, they're in the kitchen. Did you think I'd forget?" Charlie asked as he bent to help Amita pick up the fallen papers.

"Well…now that you mention it..." Don ribbed, moving forward to guiltily help re-stack the mess. When the papers were picked back up and replaced between the pair on the couch., he straightened and moved back to Terry's side.

"Sorry I scared you." He apologized as he led a growing-more-confused Terry through the living room.

Charlie shrugged, his composure returning, "It's no problem, you just startled me."

As Don ushered Terry through the doorway, he glanced back over his shoulder to see that his little brother and Amita had become engrossed in their work once more. He wondered how long that would last. With Charlie, it was impossible to tell.

Once in the kitchen, however, his mind returned to the task at hand. An assortment of boxes, all wrapped in pink paper and tied with silver ribbon, adorned the kitchen table. He watched Terry's reaction carefully as she took in the pile, her eyes widening. "Donald Alan Eppes, you didn't!" She admonished reverently.

"Of course I did." He replied, a hint of pride in the words. He was clearly going to enjoy this.

"These are for _me_?" She stuttered, blinking.

"No, I decided to buy Charlie some early birthday gifts. Pink's his favorite color too, did you know that?" He chuckled as she gave him a dirty look. "Are you going to open them or stand and look? Open the big one first." He commanded, pointing to a large pink gift to the forefront of the rest.

She moved forward as if in a daze, her hands reaching out to take the box and trembling slightly--_Get a grip, Lake!_---as she removed the wrapping. Inside was a box from "Threads", a small boutique on the nicer side of LA. Her eyes widened again as she took in the label. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to decide just what to say to him.

"Open it." He said, leaning against the wall.

She did, lifting the top off the box and folding back the tissue paper to reveal an exquisite summer gown. It was beautiful, light pink silk and low-cut. When she lifted it from the box, she examined the scalloped sleeves and hem and the intricate glass beading around the neckline, which wound down around the right side of the gown to end at the slit just above the knee. "Oh, Don, it's gorgeous!"

"You like it?" He asked anxiously. "I noticed that you had grown a pink fetish, so I tried to keep on that."

She pressed the gown to her front, stealthily checking the size as she did so. Perfect. "You did wonderfully."

"Kylie and Amita actually helped pick it out." He replied, looking slightly embarrassed at the praise.

She carefully draped the beautiful dress over a chair, smoothing a hand over it as though reassuring herself that it was real. Don watched her with a smile, enjoying her excitement. "Go on, there's more." He instructed, nearly as eager as she.

Terry studied the pile for a moment before selecting another box.

Don and his helpers had thought of everything--shoes (small, flat pink summer sandals that matched the dress flawlessly), combs for her hair, even a tube of soft pearl-pink lipstick, which he told her Kylie had insisted on. Finally, there were only two boxes left on the table. They'd been hidden under the rest of the pile, and Terry got the feeling that she was supposed to open them last. After a second of debate, she mentally flipped a coin and chose the longer, thinner gift. She tore the wrapping away eagerly, revealing a black velvet jewelry box.

With renewed awe, she opened it to reveal a delicate bracelet of pink and white diamonds. It shimmered energetically in the florescent kitchen light. She gazed at it, trying to think of something to say. Finally, she looked up at him, "Don…I can't take this." She whispered, watching his eyes grow confused, and she continued her explanation, trying to make him understand, "It's gorgeous, Don…I love it, but there's no way I can let you spend this--"

"Terry, listen to me." He interrupted, finally understanding. "I haven't had a girlfriend in almost eight years. And I've never had one that I've felt about the same as you." He knew he wasn't making much sense, but he never was good at explaining his feelings. He tried anyway. "I've lived by myself for most of that time, having no one but my dad and brother to spend money on…give me the opportunity to buy some pretty things for the girl I love, okay?"

She froze. Had he just said that he _loved_ her? She tried to answer, but the words seemed immobile in her throat. Instead of elaborating, he moved forward, took the box from her hands, and deftly clipped the bracelet around her wrist. It lay glowing against her pale skin like sunshine.

Don hooked two fingers under her chin and brought her face up to meet his. His lips searched hers, trying to relay all the feelings he'd kept buried for almost ten years. For a moment, she was still and unresponsive, but suddenly she was melting into his arms, answering his unspoken questions and pouring every suppressed emotion she could imagine into her movements. By the time the need for air drove them apart, both were panting heavily and offering each other smiles of understanding. Don planted another kiss on her forehead and checked his watch. "Open the last one, then go get dressed. We'll have to hurry."

She did as he instructed, opening the last box to find a breathtaking pendant and earrings to match the bracelet. She gave him a half-adoring, half-exasperated look and pulled him in for another quick kiss. "What am I going to do with you?" She asked fondly as she gathered the paper up and pushed it into the trash can. She looped one of the bows around his neck as she passed, chuckling at the amused look on his face.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, into which Amita had also disappeared, offering to help the blonde fix her hair, Don was already dressed and sitting with his brother in the living room, waiting for her. Amita stood in the doorway beside her friend and cleared her throat, catching their attention and displaying Terry like a porcelain doll.

Indeed, she looked the part. Amita had given her shoulder-length hair a hint of curl, so that it swirled up into the combs that held it and cascaded to her shoulders. The pink gown and accessories beautifully complimented the rosiness of her skin.

"You look incredible, Terry." Don said, when he felt he could use his voice again.

"Beautiful." Charlie agreed with a nod, and she gave him a grateful smile.

Don rose and took her hand, "We'd better go. Thanks again, Amita. You too, Charlie, for everything."

Terry nodded her agreement and allowed herself to be led out into the warm summer evening. As she turned to close the door, she caught sight of Charlie and Amita sitting on the couch once more, their fingers twined together as they bent over the chalkboard. She smiled and closed the door softly, feeling that the world had, indeed, gone mad, but she liked it that way.

* * *

By the time Don and Terry had been gone ten minutes, the pizza had arrived. Charlie eagerly accepted the delivery from a bored-looking young woman and carried the box back to the living room. "Food's here."

Amita dropped her pen immediately. "All right!" She cheered, following Charlie back to the kitchen. He removed paper plates from the cupboard and set them on the counter next to the pizza box.

In anotherfifteen minutes, they were seated in the living room again, thoughts of math problems and lesson plans gone from their minds. Charlie cleaned off the couch, piling the papers haphazardly on the coffee table, and switched on the TV. "I'm not usually much of one for television." He confessed to her surprised look, "But I think my concentration's pretty far gone for tonight."

She gave him a mischievous smile and curled up contentedly in a corner of the couch. "What're we watching, then?"

"Hm…" Charlie flipped the guide on and scrolled through the channels. "Wow, not much on on Friday nights, I guess." He commented, watching the options tick by.

"I suppose most people have better things to do than sit at home on Friday night and watch television." She mused. "Though, when I was younger, there was this show I _loved_ on Friday nights. I would hurry home from whatever I was doing with my friends so I could be in front of the TV by ten o'clock, no matter what I was doing. They used to get _so_ exasperated with me."

"Sounds like fun." He chuckled.

"No, the sad thing was, I wasn't the only one. There were thousands of other people just as bad as I was that tuned in faithfully every week and-- Stop! _Hitch_, I _love_ that movie!" Amita yelped, reaching for the remote.

He gave it to her, curious to see what had excited her so much. By the time the movie was halfway over, though, they had bothgiven up, curled togetheron the overstuffed sofa to nap. As he drifted to sleep, Amita curled contentedly against his side, his fingers idly running through her hair, he mused that not getting to see the end of the movie wasn't so bad…his lack of concentration hadn't allowed him to really figure out what was going on anyway.

* * *

"Don, this is feeling strangely familiar." Terry commented as he gently draped a strip of black cotton cloth over her eyes.

"It's supposed to." He replied, tying off the blindfold and placing her hand in the crook of his arm. "I'm determined to get this right. I've been watching the weather this time."

She laughed. "Probably would have been a good thing to do the first time around." She commented, squeezing his arm.

"Yeah, probably." He chuckled, "Just a little farther."

"Good, I don't like this blindfold thing." She replied, but he could hear the happiness in her voice. She was loving it, and he knew it.

They strolled comfortably for a while, content to just be in each others' presence. Finally, he stopped. "Okay, we're here." He gently removed the blindfold, careful not to muss the curtain of curls. "It's not the one I was trying to get you to while we were at the Academy, of course, but pretty close." He confessed, searching her reaction.

The restaurant was at the center of a vast garden. Lights were strung around the patio, and each of the fifteen or twenty tables sported a beautiful candelabra, casting an ethereal glow about the place. A stage had been set up beside the path that led to the kitchens, and a small orchestra was playing on it, weaving a spell of music over the almost-magical area. "Do you like it?" Don asked, giving up on trying to read her face.

"I love it. It's gorgeous." She replied truthfully, giving his arm another reassuring squeeze and remembering to breathe.

"Good." He answered as a white-shirted waiter arrived to seat them.

After checking if it was okay, Don ordered them a bottle of wine. Once it was poured, their orders taken, and they were left alone again, he smiled at her. "So did I surprise you well?"

"Completely." She confessed, gazing around at the unreal surroundings. "How long have you been planning this?"

"About two and a half weeks." He replied, amused at the look of surprise on her face.

"I knew you were up to something!" She exclaimed softly. "You had me worried; I thought you were upset with me or something."

"Upset with you?" His eyes darkened with confusion.

"You were so distant…I thought maybe I had made you angry or something." She told her plate, toying with the napkin in her lap and determinedly avoiding his gaze.

Don frantically thought over the last few weeks, realizing with a sinking stomach that she was right. He reached over to take her hand in his. "I'm sorry, Terry. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"I know that now." She replied, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

"Good." He replied. She smiled at him, a genuine hundred-watt grin that made his heart skip a few beats.

* * *

"Hey, Charlie." A gentle nudge to his shoulder pulled Charlie from a deep, contented sleep. He grumbled, swatted at the offending hand, and pulled Amita closer to him.

"Charlie, wake up."

Finally, after coming to the unhappy realization that whoever was bothering him was not going to go away, Charlie opened his sleep-heavy eyes and blinked, "Huh? Dad?"

"Charlie, you'd better move or the both of you are going to wake up in the morning with some serious cramps." Alan suggested softly, gesturing to Amita.

The youngest Eppes glanced down at the girl, smiling warmly at the look of content on her face. He nodded, and, moving painfully slowly, extracted himself unwillingly from her arms. He gently rearranged her so she was lying comfortably on the couch and tenderly lifted her head to put a pillow beneath her head, then spread a blanket over her. He stood, watching her fondly. Alan tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile, but failed.

Charlie glanced at his father, taking in the look on his face, before deciding he'd really rather not answer any questions tonight and beating a quick retreat to his room, glancing one last time at Amita's peaceful form before disappearing around the corner.

* * *

Cheerful beeping interrupted Terry's peaceful dream. She growled angrily at the offending noise, disengaging herself from Don's arms to fumble around on the floor for her cell phone, all the while squinting against the bright July sun streaming through her window. She finally located it next to Don's belt and flipped it open. "Lake."

There was silence on the line for several moments before David's voice crackled over the wire, "Hey, Terry. I know it's your day off, I wanted to call and let you know that they set the court date for the Dalton case."

"Dalton case?" Her brain clearly wasn't functioning yet.

"Yeah, the one we just wrapped up yesterday."

"Oh, right. Already? Wow, that was _quick_. Thanks, David."

"No problem. Could you pass the message along to Don, too?"

"How do you know I'm with Don?" She asked, raising an eyebrow when David's amused chuckle filled his ear.

"I'd hope you are; you answered his phone. You might want to be a bit more careful about that in the future…" David chuckled as he heard Terry let out a horrified gasp.

"Oh, not again!"

* * *

END

FLUFF/Dances/ All hail to the power of the fluff!

And now, as a special thank-you, a little glimpse into the _second_ story in this little arc, "Love Me, Love Me Not":

* * *

Agent Terry Lake sighed as she heard another peal of thunder break through the hazy morning. Was it ever going to _rain,_ or was it simply going to threaten for another few days? She heard the familiar _ding_ of the elevator doors and waited for them to slide open.

"Morning, Terry." Don greeted her with a polite nod, which she returned with the barest hint of a secretive smile. He gave her a sly wink as he turned to engage her in meaningless morning conversation about the weather.

Once they arrived on their floor, he escorted her out, looking just as comfortable and nonphysical as he had months ago, before Pittsburgh, before they became more than just friends. Terry smiled her thanks and moved to drop her purse onto her desk, knocking something else off as she did so, which fell between her desk and the wall. Curious, she pulled the desk away and peered between it and the wall. Something red and shiny winked back at her.

She drew it out, examining it with shocked dark eyes…a box of chocolate? Intrigued, she read the note that had been scotch-taped to the box,

_To my love:_

_I've known you for what seems like forever, though you don't notice me. You are such an amazing person, with your bright eyes and your ready smile. I've seen you with your new boyfriend--you are dating, are you not?_

_He is not good enough for you, Terry. No one is good enough for you, save me. We were meant for each other. You will see that, but I have to give you time. In the end, you won't have a choice. _

_I hope you will accept this meaningless but hopeful token of my devotion to you. I only trust that you will recognize it for what it is--a gift from a man to the woman he loves._

Terry dropped the box onto her desk with shaking hands. "Don?"

Before the word had even left her mouth, he was at her side, concern flashing in his dark eyes. "What? What is it?"

"I think there's a problem." She replied, trying to force her voice into calmness. "A big one."

* * *

So... there you have it. I'm not leaving, nor am I hoping to be gone so long this time:-D See you all very soon, and until then, take good care.

All my love,

Sila


End file.
